


The Third Brother

by Sharonfofaron



Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: Brother Feels, Brotherhood, Brotherly Affection, Brotherly Bonding, Brotherly Love, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2019-05-25 00:12:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 36
Words: 48,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14964915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sharonfofaron/pseuds/Sharonfofaron
Summary: This is going to be a big, fluffy brother-bonding series about Sam and Nathan's youngest brother (whom I have made up) and all three of them together, apart, and then together again. He grows up to basically be Dylan O'Brien's Stiles; please read! It's going to be a lot of protective brotherly-fluff, emotionally and action-wise!





	1. Chapter 1

It was a cool, clear night, the kind of night that made you want to get up and get out and do anything and be anything. The kind of night that makes life really feel worth living, you know?

Or, at least, that's what Sam Drake was thinking to himself as he hopped and bounced spryly from rooftop to rooftop, clambering over ledges and windowsills gracefully and mounting pipes like a monkey. He felt good, he felt GREAT, actually; he'd gotten a great job offer, he was going to see his two baby brothers, and his body felt particularly strong and capable on this starry starry night. For once, it felt like life was really going well. He couldn't wait to share his enthusiasm with Nathan and Sammy. They're gonna be so excited, he thought to himself, feeling a grin spread onto his face and stay there while he jumped. He let out a little "whoop" as he flew, just from the pure excitement that was coursing through his body. Nights like this, moods like this, were better than alcohol or cigarettes or anything else in the world combined. Nights laughing and relaxing and just hanging out with his brothers. And it had been over a week since he'd seen them, too long for any of their liking. But this-this was going to be so great. 

He landed at the orphanage rooftop with a smirk, crouching and feeling pretty fucking pleased with himself. 'Just like a real goddamn Spiderman,' he thought, and mentally patted himself on the back. He reached into the backpack he wore and pulled out his camping-style flashlight, aiming it at the orphanage window and flashing it, excitement thrumming through his body. It had really been too long. 

The window opened immediately, and he heard himself cry out with joy in a completely intrinsic burst of happiness and glee. His brothers were coming--they were coming--he saw Nathan's form slip out of the window onto the ledge, and saw him reach back in for Sammy--they were gonna be so excited--

He jumped up and over, closer, to get across--but saw that Nathan was already doing it, proud, stepping across the small hop of a gap to Sam's rooftop while carrying Sammy in his own little arms. Sam saw how tightly Nathan was holding his baby brother, how his arms were clutching him carefully but capably, and he felt a tightening in his chest at the sight. The smile still on his face, his voice already reaching that quiet, higher-pitched voice that people usually reserved for dogs (or young, adorable people they really, really liked), he leaned over the ledge to help them up, taking Sammy in his arms first with the happy voice included.

"Heeeeeeeey, there's my baby brothers! Heeeeeeey (Sam had a tendency to greet people with lots of verve and ceremony like this, making them feel like they were the most welcome and important people in his world--which in this case, they WERE), there you are!" he continued as he comfortably eased Sammy into the crook of his right arm and pulled Nathan up in a lift-slash-hug-embrace with his strong left one, wrapping the arm around his little brother's back and lifting tightly. He always felt stronger with his brothers around, partly because their vulnerable little bodies and the height difference was a nice reminder that he was also LITERALLY bigger and stronger. Which made him feel good, in a cool way. 

Sammy was already reaching up for him when he had leaned down, cute little arms and happy face outstretched, silent but big happy smile open, and automatically wrapped his arms and body around Sam's neck and chest like a gecko the second that he felt himself being picked up. Sam was laughing at that as he pulled Nathan up, who was also doing the same (but slightly taller and bigger) version of the insanely adorable reach-and-hug with a huge little-kid grin on his face. Sam could feel the same grin on his own. 

Both brothers up now, Sam stepped back from the ledge and hugged them both, wrapping one arm around Nathan for a one-armed hug and stretching it into a big, happy, long two-arm hug when it became apparent that Sammy was clinging tightly enough to not need any support. "Sam!" Nathan was saying enthusiastically, staring up at him like manna from heaven, "You're here!!!! Sam's here!!" at the same time as Sammy was hugging him happily with little baby burbles and saying cutely "Sammy! Sammy Sammy Sammy!!" and reaching up to touch his face. Sam laughed, a real happy laugh that always came out around his brothers. It was so, so nice to feel wanted like this. His brothers really did adore him. God, it was great. He sent up something that could only really be described as a prayer to the night sky; he might have left the Catholic orphanage, but he was still grateful, and he felt the gratitude head up and out like a beam of light from inside. 

He wrapped them all in one big big hug, feeling like he was in a Disney movie, saying "Heeeeeeeeeeeeey, I'm here, I'm here, the party's all here--" over their cheery and excited little baby-bird voices, smiling and chuckling all the while. "You're back! You're back!" Nathan was exclaiming, hopping up and down and still holding him around the lower waist where he could reach, and Sammy was touching his face and neck all over with his soft pudgy little baby hands, quietly but excitedly singsonging "Sammy Sammy Sammy. Sammy Sammy Sammy Sammy-"

Sam stepped back further on the roof to where they could get to some of the raised air vents and sit down, able to only turn his head back a little to look where he was going due to Sammy's affectionate touches and his own giggles. His brothers made him giddy like this sometimes; if boys his age saw him now--'Well,' he thought, looking down at the swarm of love for him that was literally surrounding his body and the love in his little brothers' eyes, 'they can just be jealous, 'cuz I really don't give a damn'. And he let his happy giggles out with the nonjudgmental crowd, the coolest people he knew. Nate scuttled around to be behind him, and he felt his little brother's hands guiding his waist and his lower back to where he could sit down and lean against one of the vertical air vents that was high enough to just go over his own head. As he walked backwards more, saying "Thanks little brother", he moved Sammy further into his right arm and poked him on the nose with his left pointer finger jokingly. "Hey now, Sammy, I'm not Sammy! YOU'RE Sammy." Sammy shook his head and hugged his face again, eyes closed and smile big in the happiest little face you could ever see, literally hugging his biggest brother's head like it was an entire person. "Sammy Sammy Sammy," he hummed, and Sam laughed again as he felt Nate step away and he could lower himself down. Both boys immediately snuggled into him the second that he was down, much like two excitable puppies, and cuddled. Sam sighed with happiness, and felt his chest move under Sammy and Nathan while he laughed at their pig-pile of a hug. 

"How you doing, little brothers? It's good to see you," he said genuinely, his voice getting deeper and more earnest. He ruffled Nathan's hair, who grinned back at him, head on his chest adoringly. It was crazy, he thought, looking down at both happy little awestruck faces, how much they loved him. And his chest swelled to think of how much he loved THEM. Everything else in the world, good, bad, medium, fell away at those feelings. 

"What have you been up to?" Nathan asked with a happy chirp. "Where have you been going? What have we missed?" Sam's chest twinged a little at that; his little brother Nathan always said it like that, and he knew that Nathan felt it cut deep into his heart when his brother was out here having what in HIS mind were grand "adventures" without them. Nathan was chomping at the bit to get out, even though he was only ten years old, and Sam sometimes feared that he'd try to sneak out or run away to catch up with him on his own. That fear always went away, though, because he knew that Nate would never, EVER leave Sammy behind. The three of them stuck together, always. Always. It was them against the world, just as it always would and should be. 

Even if the world was being particularly good right now. The reminder made Sam remember the other thing that made tonight great, and he bopped Nate on the nose and booped Sammy on the other. "THAT is the big news, little brother," he said, tilting his head back triumphantly and raising his voice up with dynamism and inflections like he did whenever he was about to start telling a story, and his brothers' eyes widened expectantly. He paused for ceremony, then said, hands leaving his brothers for a second in his excitement, "I, Samuel Drake, got a job."

"What?!" Nathan's face lit up even more. "That's GREAT! What're you gonna do?! Where is it?!"

"Sammy Sammy Sammy," Sammy murmured, happily, sitting up a little to applaud clumsily (even if he didn't quite know how to do it, or what was worth the applaud). The sight was so charming that it somehow made tears well up, and Sam breathed tightly to make them go away. Then he thought, 'ah, fuck it', and just let 'em fall. 

Nate's eyes were blurry too, probably because he saw his own brother crying--or, as close as Sam usually got aside from really, REALLY crying--, but he knew that it was from joy. And relief, too; Nate knew how stressful and cumbersome it was for Sam to have this weight on him all the time, to worry about supporting himself and his brothers and having a bed to sleep in and good food, or ANY food, in his stomach at night--and how guilty he felt that they weren't both there with him all the time-- 

He didn't press Sam, just let him cry a little and let the tears fall, and both he and Sammy softly cuddled their big brother and patiently waited. Sam felt his chest heave again, this time now because he could feel how his brothers were waiting, how they were genuinely in no rush to hear him speak, and he could feel that there was absolutely no judgment from them whatsoever. Sam could be the most terrible person in the world, or the weepiest, but his brothers always loved him. They didn't care what he did, not ever, and he could be himself and say and do whatever he felt like and they were always, always okay with it. He was the best thing in their world, and that was...really something. Something big, and tight, and powerful, that made him look up at the moon and send up another prayer of thanks. 

Sammy's intense brown eyes and Nathan's contented blue ones were looking up at him, happily and thoughtfully, when he stopped. "You did it, Sam," Nathan finally murmured quietly, smile still on his face and growing bigger again now that his brother had stopped crying. It worried him to see his brother like this, and he knew that it worried Sammy too. Sammy was a perceptive little kid. 

"Yeah," Sam coughed out wetly, "I guess I did." 

"What's the job like?" he asked, and Sammy looked on inquisitively, understanding the context if not the question.

Sam's smile came back even bigger now, too. "It's archaeology," he said excitedly. "I harassed this professor who works at one of the museums downtown and bothered him until he'd at least listen to me and hear what I had to say, and what I knew about history. Once I got him talking, and got him to pay attention, he decided he liked me and figured I could have some potential. Even set me up to get a real title and everything. Guys, I'm gonna be helping with old artifacts! Treasures, Sammy!" he bounced Sammy a little for a second, and Sammy laughed, while Nathan gasped in awe. "I'm gonna be working with treasure!!" 

Nathan gasped again, his smile wide and his eyes big, and Sammy tried (emphasis on tried) to clap again. "That's SO COOL!!"

"Right?! God, Nathan, I'm so excited," it came out as breathy confession. "I mean, it's working in a dusty office with a crotchety old guy, but he's like the BEST in the business and Nathan he knows so so much and he's gonna TEACH me and I'll be working with REAL artifacts"

The night continued on like that, Sam excitedly talking and Sammy listening and Nathan absorbing with his eyes wide, all of their smiles big until their faces ached and there was a shift in the moon that reminded Sam of the time. 

"Whoop, looks like we gotta go, little brothers," he said sheepishly, realizing how much he'd talked and hearing the calm, relaxed sleepiness in his own voice. He wasn't even a little surprised to see that Sammy was still awake; Sammy was a notoriously easy baby, and honestly an even easier toddler, and he was also a night owl just like Sam. Nathan, however, was drifting, if the slow blinking was any indication. He'd been keeping it together, so so eager to listen to Sam and to continue reveling in his success, but now that Sam had mentioned go-time it was like his body had immediately gotten the message. He yawned, trying to cover it up, and Sam laughed. "Cooommmeee on," he groaned as he stood up firmly, one brother melting off of him like butter and the other clinging to him like wax. He chuckled and bounced Sammy a little, who was clutching his neck tighter. "Don't worry, baby brother, I'll be back soon!" he said brightly, the other arm automatically going around Nate as they walked. They were a tactile family, always had been, even when their parents had still been around or alive, and warm, affectionate physical contact between his brothers was literally like a battery recharge for each one of them. Just a touch on the neck or a bump on the shoulder could boost their moods; they were each other's home base, and all that each other needed, and it was good. 

"So how's everything going, anyway?" Sam asked as they moved to the roof's edge, slowing down and taking languid, ponderous steps so he could hear Nate's answer. He felt a little bad for talking about himself all night--but then again, his brothers made him feel like a rock star, and like everything that he said was the most important thing in the world and absolutely crucial to all things. Nate knew his brother well enough to know that he was feeling a little guilty--as Sam was wont to do, when it came to his little brothers, reveling in things and then promptly switching to needless regret--and brightened again, shrugging quickly to make it clear that there was nothing important he'd missed, keeping his voice very light. 

"Fine, nothing different! Sammy's doing really well, though," Nate said suddenly, abruptly remembering that little tidbit of news. "Sister Catherine says he's gonna go far." 

Sam beamed, and looked down at his little brother he was still holding in his arms, who had been nuzzling into his neck but now was forcibly sat up as Sam leaned him out to look at his face. He sucked his thumb bashfully and adorably at the attention, looking back and forth between his brothers like he didn't know what to do, Sam beaming down at him and Nathan beaming up. 

"Ohh, is that right?" Sam asked happily, his voice getting into high-cute-puppy-speak territory again before going back down. "Damn right he is!" Sam had long given up on policing his swearing, at least when it came to "hells" and "damns", since he'd discovered that it was damn near impossible to do so--at least in his own case. But he did manage to draw the line and rein it in when it came to "fucks" and "shits"--so far. And besides, "hell" and "damn" were both words they'd learn in the more Catholic sense within the orphanage, anyway. 

"And how 'bout you?" Sam asked, shifting his focus to Nate, smile still on his face but one mirth-some eyebrow now raised. This was another of Sam's greatest traits, and Nathan loved him even more for it; he never focused too long on one brother, never once forgot to ask about something. Never once made either brother feel overlooked. And he managed to do it casually, too, even though protectiveness and seriousness always entered his voice when he was checking in. It always made Nathan feel somehow warm and fuzzy when he did that; it was nice to be looked after, and protected. Sam made them feel so safe, even though he was just a kid too. 

He had to admit, even though he didn't have the responsibilities or self-inflicted pressures that Sam had, he could definitely understand the appeal of being protective. It made him feel tougher, more capable, stronger even, to be in charge of someone else and taking care of them. Having Sammy to look after definitely did that, and he kind of loved it. It was cool to be needed.

He shrugged now, trying not to look too much like a gleeful martyr. "I'm good, got an awesome grade on a mythology test." Sam grinned at that, and ruffled his hair again in what was his favorite thing to do to Nathan--particularly since he knew that Nathan would never let anyone else ever, ever, touch his head like that except Sam. "Heeeeeyyyy, nice one, little brother! Father Duffy's class?" 

Nate nodded happily. He knew how much his brother liked Father Duffy; he always said he was "the one decent guy in there". "And we've got some new kids in; they're pretty cool."

Sam hummed happily, and shifted Sammy in his arms. "Hey Nathan, check this out," Sam said in a lower decibel, mischief on his face and his mouth squirming as he tried to hold in a laugh. Nathan's mouth did the same--because Sammy was doing his signature trick. "He's been practicing this on me, too," Nate said, and Sam's mouth twitched. "No kidding?" "Yeah," Nate laughed, "It's kind of adorable." Sam agreed; it was always adorable when Nate was holding Sammy, because he really wasn't much bigger in size and could barely do it sometimes, but he imagined that this trick was particularly so. 

Every time Sam had to leave--or anyone Sammy liked, really, so basically Sam--Sammy would make himself as still as possible, not even moving a muscle, and stay very small and quiet. He was convinced that if he stayed like that, and Sam didn't notice him, then Sam would accidentally take him with him. And Sam had almost fallen for it once, too, if Nathan hadn't stopped him. They'd laughed for a long time after that, and Sam had jokingly said that they'd really have to keep an eye on him. They were practiced at noticing it now, and tonight was no different. Sammy was so immobile you'd think he was dead. 

"He's not even blinking," Nathan whispered, grinning and growing impressed as the equally-grinning-Sam stood still (keeping his face straight ahead, to maintain the 'ruse' of talking to Nathan) and tried to wait Sammy out. After a few more seconds, Sam gave in-just like he always did, because there was a part of him that worried that Sammy might sometime try to hold his breath, and he was still too young to be doing that--and let his laugh trickle out of his mouth in a chuckle that became a real laugh. Nate joined him, and Sam started gently rustling Sammy with his left hand. 

"Nice try, little guy," he said kindly, starting the process of gently extricating himself from his grasp like someone detaching an octopus, but Sammy still tensed. He didn't quite understand, but he knew from the subtle voice changes and the light of the night that Sam was leaving, and Sammy HATED it when Sam was leaving. 

Sam knew that Sammy was a particularly easygoing little kid, and he always wanted to stop people on the street and brag about it when he saw that their kids were misbehaving. He wanted to puff his chest and say "MY baby brother's not like that at ALL. My baby brother's so easy, I can count the amount of times he's cried on one hand. My baby brother never keeps me awake if he's not supposed to, or is mean to other kids, or gets in trouble. My brother's the best.". He and Nate had marveled at it before--and so had their mom, Sam remembered. They'd been talking about it one day a while ago, him and Nathan, and Nathan had wondered aloud at it. "We have such an easy brother," he'd mused, while they leaned against the air vent and watched Sammy play with a beetle--aka watch it closely, his nose a millimeter away from it, but never touching it, humming happily. They'd only managed to get him to leave Sam's neck by promising him that he could come right back after he said hi to the beetle, because they knew he wanted to but that he was scared to stop holding on to Sam. It always made Sam's chest hurt when his brother was like that, in a sweetly stinging kind of way. "Yeah, we really do," Sam had answered warmly, his head back in the sunshine and his other arm up and over Nathan, resting on the vent behind their heads, and his mouth around an apple. "Do you think it's 'cause of Mom?" Nate had asked quietly, and Sam had stopped chewing for a second and glanced over. Nate was still watching Sammy introspectively, but Sam started watching him carefully. He swallowed his piece of apple, thinking on what to say. It hurt to think about Mom, so he really really tried not to. 

"I asked her that once," he laughed sadly. "And do you know what she said?" He watched as Nate turned to look at him, a strange look in his big blue eyes. A desperate one. A pensive one.

"What?"

Sam smiled sadly now, then put his arm around his younger brother and looked back out ahead at Sammy. "She said 'honestly, Sam, I don't think it's got anything to do with me. I think we actually just really, really lucked out." 

Nate laughed, and Sam squeezed him in a one-armed hug bracingly. "Hey Sammy, how's the beetle?" he asked, feeling better, and the day went on in the sunshine. 

So Sam and Nate both knew now that even though Sammy really hated leaving Sam, he wasn't going to put up much of a fuss. Sammy wasn't that kind of little boy. There'd be no crying, or temper tantrums--and it was a good thing, too, since their visits involved a lot of sneaking and any long, loud noises would get them caught. Although Nate had already told Sam that he suspected Sister Catherine knew, but that she was actually on board with it and was just letting them do it anyway. (He was right; Sister Catherine was fond of those special boys, and she could feel that there would be something undeniably wrong about keeping a boy from seeing his brothers. Especially his little ones. Once in a while she liked to sneak a cigarette and watch them from the window, like she had tonight. It made her happy, made her feel...something, and she knew that these boys were some good ones). 

As usual, they were right; Sammy tensed, and walked the line between resisting and just not-exactly-cooperating, while Sam lifted him and started to pass him over to the waiting Nathan, who had hopped down to the ledge and was reaching up, murmuring comforting little comments all along. Sam had never seen any other toddler who could actually manage to look 'rueful', but Sammy always did, his face staring after Sam as he left. Tonight he let out a little sound, and reached one more fleeting time, his eyes persistently fixed on Sam's, and Sam couldn't help getting down on his stomach to lean down for one more mid-air hug. "It's okay, Sammy, it's okay," he said sweetly, chest hurting. "I'll be right back, I'll be back before you know it, isn't that right Nathan-"

Nathan immediately helped, saying "Yes he will Sammy, don't worry he's coming back! Okay? Let's go get some sleep how 'bout--" And he tenderly rearranged Sammy into his arm. But Sammy's face still looked sad. Sam leaned out even further and reached out a hand. "Okay Sammy, one little high five, huh buddy?" Sammy's face brightened a little; Sam had spent a while teaching him how to high-five, and he was still excited about it. He reached down to touch Sammy's now reaching-up hand, a tiny one against a big one, in a silent little palm-to-palm gesture as delicately as if he were touching a butterfly's wings. The tenderness in his heart hurt, but still made him smile; Sammy's hand was so little, and so cute against his...

"Mhmph." He coughed a little and pulled himself back, literally shaking his head to try to get a grip. "You're too cute for your own good, you know that?" He tried to make a scolding face but failed, and Nathan laughed. "Or maybe for MY own good," he muttered cheerily. He reached out abruptly and ruffled Nathan's hair, who grinned up at him like a tomfool Peter Pan, and then jerked his head towards their room. "Go across now, so I can make sure you made it." 

Nathan nodded and thought of saying "Say bye, Sammy!" but thought better of it, since the high-five had seemed to work. He turned on the ledge and carefully repositioned himself for the little hop across, shuffling Sammy in his arms tightly--who was still looking at Sam, but now reluctantly turned to look where they were going--and rearranging his feet. It was little more than a big step, and he did it just fine--but Sam still watched nervously until they had made it across. Sammy reached for the windowsill as they arrived at it, even though it was too far for him to reach, like a baby raccoon trying to learn to climb. Nate and Sam both swelled with pride every time he did that; they couldn't wait to climb with him. Now, Nate lifted Sammy up--feeling strong and tough as he did so--to be on the ledge, and Sammy climbed dutifully back into the room, as slowly and cutely as Winnie the Pooh would have. Nate hopped up after him, and they both turned to look out the window and give Sam a wave, still adorned in bright happy smiles. Sammy was cheerier now; he loved waving, and did it exuberantly. Sam laughed again, feeling so full of warm bubbly feelings from the night that it was as if he swallowed champagne. He waved back and murmured "Be good, all right?" in a firm voice tinged with affection before turning to go. 

Nate's voice stopped him. 

"Sam!"

He looked back, and saw Nate's now-serious, but still happy face. "I'm so proud of you. Go enjoy your job--you're working with TREASURE!!!" It was an excited whisper, and Sam couldn't help but grin with glee back. He raised his hand in one more high five, and both of his baby brothers raised theirs back.


	2. Chapter 2

Two months later, Sam found himself climbing up to the roof-level-world of Boston once again, on another starry, cloudless, and slightly breezy night--and once again, he was in an amazingly good mood. He was doing work, good work, that he loved; the old professor was chock-full of stories and advice from old archaeological digs (not to mention the inappropriate escapades that sometimes accompanied a young roving man on said travels), and he was also chock-full of expertise when it came to archaeological history. Sam was learning tons, and having a great time while doing it. He felt like he was actually getting somewhere with his life, and with what he wanted to do. He wouldn't have to settle for some job that he could passably do and completely dread; his history books didn't have to just BE a hobby anymore. That purpose, and that possibility, had made him feel like a whole new person. The burden of caring for his brothers didn't even feel like a weight anymore--and they were absolutely thrilled to see him so happy. 

Several weeks ago, Sam had felt ambitious and decided to install some kind of emergency beacon for Nathan to use. He worried about them while he was gone, even if he wasn't far away; it terrified him when he thought about the lack of control he had over their future, and he knew that it absolutely terrified Nathan too. They could be swept off to a foster home without him even knowing until it was too late--although Nathan had recently assured him that Sister Catherine was solidly pro-Sam, and either wouldn't let that happen or would immediately help him use legal means to get them back--and the idea sometimes kept him up at night and made him sprint across town just to check in their window and see them sleeping. Sammy was a cutie, and so was Nathan, and they were prime targets for hopeful young couples looking for children. Unfortunately for Sam's nightmares. 

Eventually, he'd told Nathan about these worries--wanting him to be on his guard, and to avoid meeting with any prospective 'parents' at all costs--and they'd put their heads together to think of a way to sound an alarm if need be, one that he could see. They'd settled on the lightbulb that was a little bit up and above the boys' window outside; it usually glowed faintly yellow, but Sam shimmied up it and changed it to be one with color settings, and gave Nathan the remote (they'd shown Sammy where it was, too, and Nathan was determinedly teaching him to remember how to use it by quizzing him on it--as best a toddler could be quizzed--every night). If there was an emergency, Nathan knew to make it the color red. Sam had an old pair of camping binoculars, and he'd made it a habit of checking the light every few hours a day--darting outside for a "snack" or a "bathroom break", and promptly heading up to the museum's roof and sprinting until he was in sight of their room. 

And tonight, on his merry way across the rooftops for a visit, his heart almost stopped.

Because it was blue.

His heart resumed function rapidly again, because blue was their light for a quasi- or mild emergency--but he couldn't deny the weird buzz and lightness in his chest and arms, the feeling of adrenaline and fear kicking in even after the fact. 

It took him less than two minutes to make his way right up to the window and lift his hand to knock--only to see Nathan already there. Sam nearly jumped out of his skin at the sudden sight of him, and his body went through another roller-coaster again as he mentally relaxed to see his brother looking fine--nervous, but fine--while his heart rate nearly tripled. 

Nate opened the window immediately. "Hey, it's okay but Sammy's sick." Sam appreciated his disclaimer coming first but still felt like he was going to pass out. He promptly lifted himself up and easily and dropped into the room, again being reminded of how tall he was compared to his little brother. The room was dark save for the moonlight, and Sammy's little bed right next to Nathan's had a little lump in it. Sam knew that they usually shared, despite having two beds; they'd pushed them together, and the nuns had let it slide since Sammy was so young. His heart nearly gave out as he was heading over; he could see Sammy's little face, and see how glassy his eyes were. His little cheeks were red, but the rest of his face was ice-white. Sam immediately looked at Nathan, preparing to ask, but Nathan already started babbling, his eyes looking even bigger than they usually did. 

"He's got a cut and it got infected, the nuns know about it and they gave him medicine but his fever's not going down so they're gonna call the doctor soon if it doesn't," his voice came out fast and tense "They'll be in again any minute to check on him. Sam, I swear I didn't see it--it's just a little little cut on his arm, I swear--" Hearing Nathan's fear and guilt instantly made Sam's courage emerge, just like it always did, and he felt himself automatically rising to the occasion. He took a calming breath and placed on hand on Nathan's neck, rubbing it to calm him for a second while he sat down on the bed and moved the sheets a little to place the other hand on Sammy's head tenderly. "Shh shh Nathan, it's okay, you didn't know. The nuns'll take care of him, don't worry. It's just a small infection from a cut, people get 'em all the time. It's better than being sick and not knowing what caused it," he whispered. "He'll be okay. Hey, baby brother," he said when Sammy started moving a little under his hand. He saw his little brown eyes open and a sad little smile on his face, and his heart melted. Sammy moved his arms under the blanket and his cute little hands crept out from the very tippy-top of the sheet, just like little T-rex arms, to feebly reach for him.

"Sammy Sammy Sammy..." if Sam had been whispering, Sammy's whisper was a far far tinier one, almost imperceptible if he and Nathan hadn't hung on his every word. It was a happy one, though. 

"You're not feeling so good, huh?" He felt Sammy's forehead lightly, and wanted to wince, but kept his voice and his face light. He could feel Nathan sit down beside him, and could actually see the moonlight's reflection in Nate's eyes out of his peripheral vision, they were so big and nervous and clear. He rubbed Nathan's neck again to calm him down, and felt Nate's shoulders relax just a tiny bit as they both looked down at Sammy. 

Sammy shook his head a tiny bit, very slowly. Nate was still staring at him, then shifted on the bed. "He didn't say anything, Sam, I don't even know when he got the cut. He was just quiet and kind of tired, but he's ALWAYS quiet--" 

"You couldn't know, Nate--"

"I should have checked for something the second he acted weird-"

"Nate, you couldn't KNOW." Sam's whisper was a little louder and more insistent this time, determined to eliminate his brother's guilt. But then again, he had his own tendencies to blame himself. He kept talking. "What are you supposed to do, Nate, check his body for cuts every minute of every day? Little kids don't complain about stuff like that when they don't feel good and don't know why--or at least, not THIS little kid," he said affectionately as he rubbed Sammy's head. "Although ironically, in this case it would maybe be GOOD if you did complain a little bit, Sammy." He kept a smile on his face so Sammy could see that he was kidding. Well, not REALLY kidding. 

Sammy looked up at him briefly, then murmured "Cold" before huddling up under the blankets again. His mouth was open a little, like he was having trouble breathing or was hot, but he was also shivering. 

Sam looked away for a second, trying not to be distracted by panic, so he could think for a minute. He could feel Nate watching him, and the steady little thrum of Sammy's pulse through his hand, coming too fast. 

Abruptly he took in a breath--Nate straightened, knowing that that was a sign his big brother had made a decision--and stood up. "Okay, Sister Catherine's on for the night shift as usual, right?" Nate nodded. "It's almost ten, which means she's starting soon. I'll hide on the ledge and come back up once it's ten, and I'll stay the night until 6." He was already starting to head towards the window. "Close the window after me." Nate nodded again and stood up. Sammy looked up after Sam from his little nest in the blankets, and Sam hit him with a smile quickly. "I'll be right back, Sammy!" he whispered, and held up his hand for a far-away high five gesture before hopping down--only moments before Nate started hearing the telltale footfalls of the nuns coming back. 

Sam could very faintly hear talking up above him, but stayed on the ledge for what felt like an hour. Eventually it opened up above him--thankfully, because he was having some very scary thoughts and could feel his legs vibrating with the urge to climb back in and comfort his brothers. Nate's face peeked out, and he spoke in a whisper.

"Come on, they're gone."

Sam was already lifting himself, his arm muscles flexing under his Henley. 

"And she's on?"

"Yeah," Nate said, backing away as Sam came in and turning to shut the window. He'd changed into sweatpants and another loose T-shirt; the nuns must have told him to go to bed. Sam stepped over to Sammy and checked on him; he'd gone to sleep. "They gave him more medicine," Nate said. "And she'll be in to check on him in like ten minutes."

"Then we'd better hope that our adorable-ness wins her over," Sam said blithely, stripping off his shirt, jeans, sneakers, and socks and slipping into the bed in just his boxer-briefs. His job had allowed him to get a gym membership--partly for the rock climbing walls, partly for the included shower rights--, so he was always relatively clean, which was a blessing he appreciated now that he was here while his little brother was sick. It would do Sammy no good to get some bug from the street, or Nathan for that matter. 

"Won't you be cold?" Nathan asked. "No," Sam answered. "It's so I can absorb his body heat, you know?" Nathan's face opened as understanding dawned, and he quickly started to do the same thing. "No no no," Sam whispered, holding up a hand. "I got this, little brother. You're not big enough, you'll catch a cold with just that." Unwilling to argue about "not being big enough", and still worried about his little brother, Nathan nodded and hopped in. Sammy shifted in the bed, and started to lift his head a little sleepily, but Sam immediately wrapped his arms around him and held him steady, shushing him quietly while Nate crawled over to be the innermost one against the wall. Sam wanted a quick getaway if things went sour, so he figured the outer side was best. 

Nate immediately turned to his side to face his brothers, and he and Sam formed a cozy crescent, wrapping Sammy up in a cocoon. "Nice job with the light," Sam murmured, and Nate smiled a little smile back, still a little worried but calming down despite himself since it was impossible not to feel comfortable cuddling in his brothers' arms. It had been too long since they'd gotten to all spend a night together. "It was a good idea." 

They heard someone coming then, and Sam immediately hunkered further down into the bed. "Sh!" 

Nate did the same, and they both closed their eyes and focused very very absurdly intently on looking relaxed and asleep. Sam saw the light from the door when it opened through his eyelids, and felt his eyelashes' urge to flicker, but he clamped them down and forced a vision of serenity onto his face. 

There was a pause....then he heard footsteps near him, and inadvertently stiffened a little in spite of himself. His arms and hands wrapped and clenched around Sammy tighter. But the footsteps stopped at the nightstand, where he heard the unexpected 'clink' of some dishes and glasses being put down. He heard the scribbling and crackling of a note being written. Then the footsteps left, paused, and then the door shut. Sam waited for 60 seconds before slowly rotating his torso to look to his left, and saw that there were three sandwiches, a paper bag, three bottles of pills, a thermometer, a washcloth, and three glasses of water on the table. His mouth watered, and he reached for the note. 

"The food is for you. Please take all of it. Two bottles are also for you; if I recall, your allergies will be acting up soon. There's a jacket   
on the chair for you as well. Give Sammy another pill in 1 hour if his fever still hasn't gone down from 100.1. Soak the washcloth   
and put it on his head, too; it may help. Any problems, you know where to find me. My shift ends at 6--but you already knew that.   
Best of luck, Sister Catherine"

For a full minute Sam just stared, completely dumbfounded. She'd known he would show up...of course she had....But it was his allergies that had him thrown, dumbstruck. His allergies, she'd remembered his ALLERGIES...the ones he always passed off as nothing when Nathan worried about him...she'd...remembered. 

He reached for a sandwich (ham cheese and tomato, his favorite), and started to reach one out for Nathan, but Nathan caught his eye and immediately shook his head, so he took it back. Smiling, he rolled back over to eat one-handed while the other one continued to hold Sammy, carefully shifting his weight so as not to accidentally roll on top of Sammy into the indent in the center. Sammy was sleeping now, making little humming noises once in a while that meant he was happy, and he heard Nathan inadvertently make one too as he started to fall asleep. No doubt he'd gotten it from Sammy out of habit. He smiled to himself, feeling good warmth and fuzziness in his chest and feeling from Sammy's heartbeat that it was now slow, like it was supposed to be.

All three sandwiches later, he found himself getting sleepy; eager to keep the night, this night of being with his two brothers like they used to be, going forever, he tried to stay awake; but the comfort was too much for him, and so he slept, one of his last thoughts being 'Turns out Father Duffy really isn't the only decent guy in there.' 

And an hour later, when they were all in a deep sleep, Sister Catherine came back and took a picture, of the three happy boys in sleepy embrace, just as they should have been in a normal home, and let the Polaroid picture fall from her hands and land on the nightstand table next to them. Then she took another, just for her, as a memory of the special boys that she found herself rooting for so, so much.


	3. Chapter 3

5 years later, Sammy was sitting in his bedroom at the orphanage, cross-legged, watching his brother be lectured. Nathan had a bruise on his face from a fight--they'd been saying things about Mom...

Sammy couldn't remember Mom. He couldn't remember Dad, either. But he knew that bringing them up hurt Nathan, and hurt Sam so much that he actually would completely falter and lose all happiness for the night, too sad to even muster up a reassuring smile and then immediately riddled with guilt for his weakness, and so he tried really hard not to think or talk about them. Even if he did think about them any and every time that anyone mentioned parents--which they coincidentally did a lot, in an orphanage. 

Sister Catherine sounded more frustrated than usual; Sammy figured she probably needed a cigarette, like Sam did sometimes. Nathan was always on him to quit, but Sammy didn't say anything to chime in; why should he, when Nathan was already saying it? All Sam would say anyway was "Thank you, Father Duffy" with a sarcastic brush-off--but he HAD made it clear that neither of them were to ever, ever get into it to follow in his footsteps. Sam didn't fuck around when it came to drugs or alcohol for his younger brothers, and he'd made short work of Nathan's friendship with one boy who turned out to be bad news in that department. Sammy had a hunch that he could get Sam to quit smoking if he wanted to, but it just didn't seem like the time to say it when he himself was only seven years old. 

Tonight, Nathan looked sad. Sadder than usual, and Sammy knew why he was feeling down. Part of it was Mom, from what the other boy said during the fight; the other part was Sam. He hadn't gotten to visit as much lately, and they both really missed him. But there was something big going on at work, some opportunity that the old professor was looking into or something, and Sam seemed really excited about it. Sammy was so, so glad that he had a job; Sam was literally always lighter on his feet since he didn't have to worry about supporting them as much, since he had some money going into the bank and could pay for rent and food and start saving up. He'd apparently gotten some commendations, too; apparently the old professor saw his potential and really like his work. Sam's job-list was expanding all the time, in a good way. 

Sister Catherine left with a sigh, and there was silence in the room. Nathan was hunched over the end of his bed, looking at the ground. Sammy glanced at him, his dark brown eyes flashing like a fish under the surface, then looked back down. Nathan could feel him watching him, and sat up. "It's okay, Sammy." He moved over to sit next to him. 

"You sure?" Sammy asked quietly after another minute of silence. Nate nodded. Sammy breathed. He didn't know how to make Nathan feel better with words, so he just leaned into him. Nathan let out a little laugh and put his arm around him. "Yeah, I'm okay." 

"You were good in the fight," Sammy said, and smiled as he heard and felt his brother's smile grow up over his head. Then the light flashed in the window, the light that they both knew, and they ran to the window. 

"Sam!" Nathan gasped excitedly. Sammy pressed his face up to look out just as Nathan opened it. Nathan glanced back at the door, then they both hopped out, Nathan jumping straight down to the ledge and Sammy turning himself around to more cautiously and delicately lower himself by hand in a little drop. Nathan automatically turned to watch his back, and Sammy felt his hands on his shoulders as he helped him turn around carefully. "Can you do the little hop?" Nathan asked. Sammy had done it a couple times, but it had been awkward enough that he and Nathan had both gotten wimpy, but Sammy still wanted to try. Maybe he gotten bigger since three weeks ago. 

Nathan jumped across first, then reached out for him, and Sammy did the leap. It was a cute little hop, still very Winnie-the-Pooh, but he did it, and Nathan caught him and pulled him closer. "Hey, you did it!" he whispered happily, and gave him a little high five. Then Nathan turned to pull himself up the ledge--only to see Sam already there with a big grin. 

"Sammyyyyy!" Sammy said excitedly; he knew whose name was whose now (their mother had liked the name so much, she'd done it twice), but still liked to say the wrong one partly as a pet name and partly because it was fun when Sam always corrected him. Nathan did it now, too, just as a joke. Their happy little chorus made Sam's heart swell with glee again; he loved seeing his baby brothers. 

"Heeeeeey, little brothers! Come on up!" He reached down for Nathan's hand, then reached down with both arms to bodily lift Sammy up once he'd gotten Nathan. 

"It's good to see you, little brothers." Sam stood tall above them, his hair doing that cool swishy-thingy that Nathan was always jealous of. Sammy's brunette hair was still short, but leaned more towards Sam's type than Nathan's; it stuck up straight and fuzzy in a cute little coif, and did its own thing sometimes, not unlike that of a short-haired guinea pig. Their hair was almost black; Nathan's was rounder and a little bit lighter brown, and sat on his head reliably instead of reaching for the moon. But he knew Nathan was jealous. 

They were still hugging him now, and he kept his arms around them, already starting the talking. "I got a surprise for you guys--but I also got some bad news. We're going out, you and me--" he gestured to Nathan, whose mouth opened--"but Sammy, you can't come. Sorry, little guy," he said mournfully, as Sammy stared up at him in dismay. Nate's eyes had initially widened in excitement, but their glee was dampened learning that Sammy couldn't go. Always the considerate brothers, neither one really wanted to leave Sammy behind; but Sam knew what they were about to do, and it wasn't safe. He couldn't bring his baby brother into this; if they got caught, he'd definitely lose him. 

"So what is it?" Nate asked slowly, looking back up at Sam. Sam sighed, and rubbed Sammy's head. Sammy was still looking at him with puppy eyes. "I found Mom's stuff. Everything that Dad sold, I tracked down the buyer." 

"Really? Where?"

"A house on the other side of town." He straightened, his cheeks flushed with excitement, and smirked his signature smirk. "What do you say we go and get it back." 

 

Three years later, Sammy was staring out the window just like he always did. His brothers still hadn't come back. The night was ingrained in his brain, behind his eyes and in his ears, all the time. He could barely focus on anything else. "We'll see you in a little bit, Sammy," they'd said encouragingly, giving him extra hugs and head-rubs since they knew he was disappointed and worried "and we'll have Mom's stuff!" Then they'd helped him down onto the ledge, watched nervously until he made the jump, and sent him lots of waves and high-fives once he got into this room. Sam had made funny faces and he'd finally mustered a smile, a real one, and then they left with a little whoop and a holler. 

And now they were still gone. Something had happened, Sammy knew something had; the nuns had asked him things after that night, and there had been cops...

They'd never found them, though. And Sammy ACTUALLY felt like he was being stabbed and like he couldn't breathe when he thought about them--so he felt like that a LOT. It was a good thing he was so smart, because any other student who had made only a passable effort in classes wouldn't have scored A's in everything steadily despite not even trying. "We haven't even scraped the surface with that one," he'd heard Father Duffy say, his voice beaming with pride. As if he'd actually had something to do with it. 

Sammy was angry, Sammy was hurt. Sammy was up every night with nightmares about his brothers and wondering what he did wrong to make them leave. At ten years old, it was an illogical viewpoint, but it was the one that permeated his entire mind constantly. He hadn't been good, he hadn't been a good brother. He hadn't been a good son...

Everybody had left.

Sister Catherine tried to make it better; she gave him lots of books, and always asked him if he wanted to go on little trips, but he didn't. He couldn't, couldn't leave, because if he did then they'd come back...he had to BE here...couldn't miss them...

"little bit", they'd said they'd be back in a "little bit"--

And they would be. Just a little bit longer. Just a little bit...

His door opened, and Sister Catherine came in. It was time for her night shift, like always. He dignified her with a glance before looking back out the window. 

"Sammy," her voice sounded...different, and he turned to see that she had something to tell him. In her posture, in her eyes, in the regretful squirm of her mouth--

She sat down on the still-pushed-together-in-desperation beds. He stood, hands in his pockets, head down but eyes looking and alert up from under his enviably long lashes. It always threw her, that look; his brother Sam had the same, with those dark eyes, but Sammy's had an intensity in them, a very real fierceness. A depth, like he was looking into her soul and knew everything she was going to say before she'd even said it. She supposed it was his age; kids weren't supposed to look like that when they were still just kids. That must be it. 

She sighed, and looked away. "There's a family that...really wants you. They're a good one, Sammy. I've checked them out, exhaustively." She knew perfectly well that he knew what that word would mean. It meant background checks, financial investigations, meetings with psychiatrists, home inspections galore, anything and everything that could be done. "I've gone above and beyond on this one," she said, then added with a chuckle "partly because I know your brothers will have my head if they come back and you're in anything less than top-notch condition". He smiled a little at that one, as she knew he would; she had no idea just how much he appreciated her sharing his faith. They WOULD come back. They WOULD. It was her support that had allowed him to go un-fostered for this long.

"Listen." She put her hands on his arms lightly, and squeezed gently to keep his attention. His head was still down, but his eyes were up. They looked taut, fragile. Like he was a bomb about to go off if she said the wrong thing. But then again, Sammy always looked like that. 

"I promise, I will check this room every night and have notes and messages laid out telling your brothers where you are. I PROMISE. You're NOT going to miss them; I'll keep watch for you. I will," she said insistently as he sighed uncomfortably, glancing out the window and his gaze lingering on the moonlight, lip trembling "I really will, Sammy."

"Why should I go?" he whispered. 

Her hands stayed on his arms. "Because there's money, Sammy. They've agreed to put money away for you, a lot of it, in a trust fund for when you're eighteen. You won't have to worry about that--" she didn't finish the thought, but he knew she meant 'like your brother did'. 

Money...his brothers could have money...they'd be so excited when they came back and he had money for them...Sam wouldn't be worried...they could all relax and just go away together--

"How much money?"

"500,000," she said with a smile. Sammy gulped. He'd never even heard of so much money. 

"Why so much?"

She shrugged. "I'm not sure, Sammy. Because they like you, and because they have it, I suppose." She shifted a little.

"Will you meet with them?"

Sammy's head went up to look straight at her. "If you promise. If you PROMISE."

His gaze was so dark and determined that she found it scary. But she knew instantly what he meant. "Of course, Sammy," she said quietly, moving her hands down to his and squeezing them with fervor, longing for him to believe her. "I PROMISE. I won't let you miss them." 

He met the family later that week; two young people, a brunette woman with long swishy hair and a man with nice teeth. Sammy liked them immediately, although it took him a while to actually start showing it with smiles. They'd been told in advance that he had brothers, that he was waiting for them and that if they came back and his oldest brother could hold up in court, he'd be going right back to them. They knew they were only fostering, and they made sure to keep reminding Sammy of that, to remind him that they knew it was temporary and not to worry. That they'd never keep him from his brothers, or from Sister Catherine.

And Sammy went with them, taking a leap of faith and trust. 

It was the worst mistake of his life.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to better visualize Sammy at this stage, here: https://78.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m8q8cx7lpC1qfr7d7o1_500.gif
> 
> (Dylan O'Brien as Stiles in Teen Wolf)

He was tired, so tired...but the moonlight shone into the room, and he heard Tommy squirming in his bed. 'He's having another nightmare,' Sammy thought, and he sat up and moved over to his friend quietly across the room. Robby was already waking up nearby, lifting his head to come check on his twin brother--but he was hurting too badly from earlier tonight, and Sammy quickly stepped over to him and placed a gentle hand on his chest to make him not move. Robby nodded his head in acquiescence, and Sammy stepped past him to Tommy. 

"Tommy, Tommy, shhh, it's okay," he whispered, softly shaking him awake as usual. This was old-hat by now; it had been four and a half years since he had first come to this foster family--or, at least, that nice couple he'd THOUGHT was going to be his foster family. They were actors, deceivers, paid off to run the whole charade. They were not the ones he was going with, and this was not the house that had been inspected. This was hell, and he was stuck in it. 

Grimly, he pulled Tommy upright and sat to hug him, his muscles wrapping around his all-but-blood brother. Tommy and Robby were both his age, but they had a softness to them that made them cry. And Sammy knew that the men oftentimes--unless they were the worst kind, who loved it and loved seeing their pain--hated it when they cried. On musing nights, nights when everything was quiet and the boys felt like thinking--a rare occurrence; they would talk to distract each other sometimes, but thinking was a hard no--Robby would sometimes wonder aloud if they might not cry if Sammy wasn't there. Sammy had asked Robby what he was talking about, and Robby had said simply, "Sammy, you take care of us. You're the strong one; one of us had to be, and I can't help but feel like-" his voice caught, and he looked down, all three of them sitting limply against the walls on the floor, legs vaguely outstretched. Sammy just watched him-- "like if you weren't here, one of us would have had to step up. Maybe it'd be Tommy--" he gestured to his brother, whose face was badly bruised today but who still looked at him with a little smile--"or maybe it'd, it'd be me. But I don't know..." and they'd just let it trail off there, all of them quietly thinking about it but no one continuing with the trail into conversations. Sammy had thought about it then, and he thought about it now; it was surreal, to think that somebody thought of him as the hero. It was hard to wrap his head around it--

But tonight he kept hugging Tommy, and he felt Robby's hand weakly come up from the bed that was right next to Tommy's in a line, raising it weakly over his head to reach for Sammy's own hand. And Sammy grabbed it firmly, and squeezed it, and they stayed like that until sunlight. Sunlight, and sleep, and medicine, and food, and then doing it all again. 

Sammy's was a hardened body now; at fourteen, he was medium height, but all the working out that he'd been doing had made him muscular. He marveled at it sometimes; he could feel his ribs, and his muscles, as he poked and prodded. He looked in the mirror when he was allowed downstairs, looked in the mirror and marveled at the actual muscles he had on the tops of his shoulders and the agile turn of his hips and the way that his arms and chest bulged just a little through his shirt. He didn't really have body hair or anything, and he was definitely still slighter than what he...imagined his brothers to be like now, but he was in good shape. He'd hardened his body on purpose; after the first few pedophiles' visits, after he recovered from his first times being raped enough to stop shaking and crying and screaming and retching to think straight, he'd quickly learned that these men liked him for his young and innocent little body. So he made it bigger, any way he could.

He got Tommy and Robby to do it, too, hoping that their exercise would kick-start their bodies and get puberty and growth-spurts crashing and rattling into gear. It had worked, too; but unfortunately, there was one thing Sammy hadn't counted on. Pedophiles were bad, but the full-grown violent men, the ashamed and simultaneously angry men that came next, the ones that WANTED their now strong and in-shape bodies and now deeper voices, were...worse. They'd hurt Robby tonight, badly, and Sammy had tried to stop them. He always tried to stop them, whether it was by making them choose him however he could and had to--which really, really caused the fierce tears that had always made his eyes stung--or, tonight, by trying to fight. Short work had been made of that, and now his left arm hurt. Really hurt. But he kept hugging Tommy and holding Robby, his mouth tight and his eyes dark. 

Sister Catherine was never coming. His brothers weren't going to find him. They'd probably searched and failed and left. They probably thought HE didn't want them anymore now. 

The door opened, and the woman in the couple that ACTUALLY was "taking care of them" took the money in the hallway. The man came in, and Sammy shut his eyes, feeling his entire body shake. He knew what he was about to do, knew that it was to protect his friends, and he could have killed himself for it. 

The touch on his arm happened, and he released the others slowly, and stood up, still shaking, eyes still closed. Some tears escaped, he didn't know why tonight of all nights; he felt a hand on his face, and he let the tears fall. His body started actively trembling, so noticeably that he was sure it was visible. 

And then the man spoke in a whisper, and his words made Sammy open his eyes a little, head down in fear, and see that the man was speaking into some microphone taped to his chest. 

"I've got them," he whispered sadly. "Send in the team."

The doors could be heard bursting open downstairs, and there were shouts, sounds of violence and he heard the terrible terrible woman scream something ugly--flashlights shining in his eyes--and the man was there, comforting them, saying "You're okay now. We're gonna get you of this, all right? You're okay now--" --and Sammy stopped back when he heard Robby squeal from being moved and found his voice and spoke up, his own voice sounding resonant and solid "Don't, he's hurt--" and then there were just so many people--

Hours later, he was in the hospital, Tommy and Robby on beds beside him, his own arm patched up and all the other...injuries he had, feeling weirdly queasy and funny from the whirlwind of events that had just come over him. And then Sister Catherine walked in, looking for all the world like her heart was going to break, shattered by guilt and pity--but Sammy saw it as something else, and shot straight up so fast that she jerked back in alarm. 

"Did they come?" he asked frantically, his eyes staring her down. "My brothers, did they come?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: violence and suicide, swearing

Sammy shifted in the bed, uncomfortable. It had been a few days since the rescue, and all of the pains that had sharpened once out of hell had once again lessened to become a dull ache. Except for his arm; that still really hurt. There'd been talk of tendon and nerve damage, or something; whoever the man was that had broken it, he'd done a hell of a job. Some kind of military training, probably...from what the nurses had said, Sammy's arm might never be the same again. He'd be able to use it, but it would bother him constantly, and it wouldn't be able to take much stress or weight. There was the possibility of a surgery, but...

Sammy had tried to pretend that he couldn't afford it, that he didn't have insurance, et cetera, but the nurses and doctors and Sister Catherine had all asked him to do it and wanted to find ways to make it happen so badly that eventually he just had to tell them the truth:

he didn't want to go through a surgery without his brothers. Sister Catherine's face had sunk when he'd said that, but he'd kept his jaw firm--and now that a few days had passed, his resolve was only strengthened. 

Sam and Nathan were gone, they were gone and that meant that they were in trouble and he would go find them and save them and get them to come back. Get them to stay with him... 

But Tommy and Robby, they still needed him too, they were both an absolute wreck after being saved. Sammy didn't understand that. They were out now; what was the problem? He just had to lock it away and never think about it ever again. Easy. Problem solved. 

But Tommy and Robby weren't like that; they were in beds next to him, and he would try to get them to talk to him, but their responses were weak and their smiles small and their skin was pale. They were both trembling all the time...the nurses were worried, Sammy had seen them talking and seen their concern on their faces and in their gestures--

But they would be fine. They'd be fine, he told himself, shifting in bed again. It was just like shock wearing off, it would take a while. And they could help each other, and he could help them--then he'd get his brothers--

The security guard came in just then, the same man who'd been doing little patrols every hour down the hallway and into their room. They'd be witnesses, witnesses in a case; a detective had come in and mentioned it to them, mostly to Sammy since Tommy and Robby were both too out of it. Sammy had thought about it, his face cold and pensive, and the detective had looked on pityingly, feeling a little respectful yet disturbed by the young boy's intensity just like Sister Catherine had. 

Sammy didn't mind testifying; in fact, he kind of liked the idea of his face being out there for his brothers to see. But then they'd hear about it...they'd hear about what happened...

The humiliation was too much to bear. To have his big brothers hear about what had happened to him...And besides, when he'd asked how long the testifying trial would have to be, the detective had said "probably two to six months." Sammy had widened his eyes at that in skepticism, then leaned back onto his pillow and muttered "JEsus" much like his older brother used to do. The detective's mouth twitched at that; he liked this boy, for some reason, and it was refreshing to see something akin to a normal teenager's exasperated eye roll. 

But Sammy didn't have time to wait around for six months. No way. He was going to get his money, the money from that 'trust fund', for damages--WITH interest, he'd demanded. He was going to get his 500,000 dollars and get out of the orphanage early and find his brothers and never come back. So he'd asked more questions, and eventually they'd agreed to let him do a video-taped witness testimony, one that only the judge and jury would see privately. It would be anonymous, they said. 

The testimony was in a couple hours; Sammy figured they wanted him to testify while the bruises were still fresh. There was a nice big one on his cheekbone, a photogenic one that would no doubt go great with a jury or a judge or whoever the fuck was watching it. Sammy'd never really cared much for the law stuff that he sometimes saw on the news; actually, he didn't really care for television in general. 

The security guard gave him the same polite little smile as he did every other hour of the day, and Sammy returned it back. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Tommy rising up in his bed to greet the guard, and felt happiness rising in his chest--Tommy was well enough to feel friendly--

But then there was a shot, and Sammy looked to see the guard's gun falling out of Tommy's now-limp hand, to see Tommy's head jerked back and blood splattering everywhere and his mouth and eyes wide open as he crumpled--and Sammy was up, he was yelling immediately, trying to get over there but he was plugged in--and then Robby already had the gun, the guard scrambling for him--

another shot, another bloody head and fragile boy's body smashed to the ground, and Sammy felt like he was going to pass out. 

 

Two hours later, he was at a table in pale, cold policeman's room, still bruised and beaten but with more blood on his shirt from fruitlessly trying to revive Tommy and Robby and a new, deeper emptiness in his dark brown eyes. There hadn't been tears yet, but he could feel them fluttering on the edges of his lashes, about to come out...

The woman in the simple pencil-skirt suit across from him was there, and Sister Catherine was in the corner, watching him worriedly...he'd wanted to do the testimony today anyway, wanted to get it over with because he had things to do and never mind that his two best friends were...whatever they were he had to GET A MOVE ON for his brothers...his brothers--

Yes. Brothers. Focusing on them, Sammy clenched his jaw--but then she said something, the tape started, and all he could do to start was look up at her, shaking a little, tears dropping, and feebly ask, "A-are they dead?"


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't try to think too much about the Drake brothers' ages or the time frame, exactly...I'm not! I guess basically Nathan is 22 and Sam is 27 and Sammy is fourteen...? This is the beginning of Uncharted 4, except Rafe has escaped instead of Rafe and Nathan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: swearing

Panama, present day

Sam Drake looked up from where he was bent over to see his younger brother, Nathan, looking down at him. "Lo siento, chicos," he murmured with a throaty voice to the men he was gambling with, rising slowly and gathering his winnings. "Tengo que irme." He threw a few cigarettes down lightly as recompense for his exit, and heard pleased noises from the men as he walked away to be with his brother, putting the last cigarette up to his mouth and lighting it. 

"Hey, little brother."

"Hey."

Nathan was thinking about Sammy again; he could tell, and he breathed in a little tightly to try to tell his brother the same things that he was always trying to tell himself. 

"We'll get out, Nathan." He wrapped a hand around the back of his brother's neck comfortingly, giving it a bracing squeeze. "We will." 

Nathan sighed, worry now clear on his face. Sam loved how expressive his brother was; it was always easy to see when someone had upset him, and also easy to see when he was feeling better. Such transparency was rare in a person, and Sam admired it. Nathan was like a bright light here; everyone loved him for his open-faced friendliness and optimism. Combined with Sam's sarcasm and overwhelming charisma, the two of them made an unstoppable team. 

But today, Nate was not feeling so optimistic, as Sam could see. So he lowered his head a little in a ducking motion to catch Nathan's eye, hand still on his little brother's neck. Nathan was so funny, he often mused to himself; he was 22 now, and tall and broad-shouldered, muscular and good-looking (but still a little shorter than Sam, which was good for his own dignity), but had so many of the same mannerisms that he'd always had as a child. Like now, when he was looking up at Sam under his lashes with those baby-blue eyes, just like he had as a kid when Sam was trying to tell him something that was laced with humor but actually important or serious. It was the face that meant reluctance, but compliance; or sometimes, the face that meant he still needed more encouragement. 

So Sam gave it to him, stepping closer and giving his brother a good shake. "Hey, we're some of the most popular guys in here, even with the guards. Soon they'll give us visitation rights, or let us send letters, okay? I'm gonna ask Vargas today." 

Sam wasn't making anything up; he HAD been planning on asking Vargas soon, somehow. But he hadn't wanted to tell Nathan and make him nervous, especially if it didn't pan out. Vargas was the warden, a surly but somewhat amenable man who could be persuaded to do favors--if he liked you. Fortunately for the Drake brothers, he did. And he was particularly fond of Nathan.

"Hey, he likes you," Sam said, his finger touching Nathan's chest in a firm point, knowing that Nathan would respond well to being given something to do, "Why don't you do it, huh? Go ask him. He just got in." Nathan looked over to where Vargas could be seen entering the yard, two guards with him. Nathan nodded slowly, his body straightening and his mind visibly adjusting to the task, his eyes still on Vargas. Just before he moved to go, Sam grabbed him one more time--a glimpse and a moment of his own desperation coming through. He'd wanted to avoid telling anyone about their baby brother on the outside; it just seemed better to avoid giving out any personal information wherever possible, especially to the unpredictable people in charge. But a thought had struck him: despite the impromptu nature of this plan, and despite his suaveness, there was a huge fear in his chest that it wouldn't work. If that happened, if Vargas denied the outside communication still, then they'd have angered him and possibly gotten the guards to start really cracking down on them--after years of being deliberately likable inmates. The benefits and the laxity were finally coming through from that, but if Vargas got mad it would take him years to cool down. That was more years without the opportunity for a request, and more years without Sammy. 

Nathan stopped when Sam grabbed him, looking back with concern. Sam glanced at him, trying not to let his own stress show in his eyes, but knowing that Nathan would see it anyway; so he quickly moved his gaze to Vargas, one hand still on Nathan's arm, trying faintly to seem calm. "And...play the baby-brother-thing hard, okay? Maybe he's got one," he said, voice faltering a little and getting quieter. Nathan kept his eyes on Sam, feeling the unspoken stress that they were both sharing, and nodded. "Okay. I will." They clutched each other's arms for a second before Nathan stepped away and moved towards the warden. 

The next ten minutes felt like the most stressful in Sam's life. He nervously smoked his cigarette, pacing but trying to make it look like casual ambling, eyes darting to the entrance and barely even blinking. One man, a casual friend, started to talk to him, and Sam kept up his half of the conversation with vague little noncommittal jokes, but the man soon seemed to realize that he was feeling solitary and headed off, thankfully without any offense. 

Nathan had gotten Vargas to let him come inside, which was a good sign that could mean a private meeting. Or it could mean that he was getting beaten. "JEsus," Sam muttered to himself, trying to let his stress out in any minute way that he could. His mind immediately tried to quiet itself; these Panamanian guards had no trouble beating prisoners in front of anyone else. They were in jail, after all--so there was no reason to hurt Nathan in private when they could do it out here. He was all right, Sam told himself. He was all right. 

Nathan walked out now, flanked by the two guards, who gave him an unnecessary but almost expected shove back into the yard. Nate kept his mouth inscrutable, trying not to gain attention from the others as he approached--but his grin filled his eyes, and Sam felt a huge smile break out on his face automatically. To hell what anyone else thinks. 

"Yes, he said yes!" Nate hissed excitedly, and they grabbed each other's arms again, this time in excitement, clutching each other and trying really really hard to hold in their enthusiasm--even if they both felt like doing a dance. 

"Holy shit, Nathan, really?" The cigarette fell unnoticed from Sam's mouth, he was grinning so big. One hand released Nathan to go through his own hair in excitement, then went right back to grabbing him. 

"Yes! Visitation rights!" Nate kept speaking excitedly. "Sam, he's letting me contact Sully. And Sully can get Sammy--" Sam opened his mouth to speak, the idea of his baby brother coming to a Panamanian prison unappealing but the idea of seeing him again being decidedly APPealing "and tell him we're here and take care of him!" 

"Holy SHIT, Nathan" Sam repeated, smile growing big again. 

"We did it, Sam," Nathan said, this time grabbing his big brother's neck in excitement, eyes shining "We're gonna see Sammy again."


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: swearing, violence
> 
> The "hard to kill" line is just a line I like from Nancy Drew: Sea of Darkness!

Four days later, Sam and Nathan were being led to Vargas's office in handcuffs--but they had huge smiles on their faces. It hadn't taken Sully long to pounce on the news that they were alive; he and Sam might not always see eye to eye, but he genuinely loved Nathan like a son. And Sam, too, although the love that percolated there was a little slower to grow--not that he might really admit his level of caring any time soon. They tended to compete over Nathan's affection, and over their roles as father-figures. 

Today, Sully had made it to Panama--long-distance-travel be damned--and Vargas was being true to his word, a fact that Nathan and Sam were immeasurably grateful for. It was a terrifying thing, to be out of control of your own fate. Neither of them had slept well the past three nights, frantically worrying that Vargas would show up at any second and, with a simple "I changed my mind", ruin their lives and their brother's. They'd been tense; Nathan had done nothing but push-ups and sit-ups, jogging in place when all else failed, trying to exercise away the worry, and Sam had smoked so many cigarettes that his lips actually hurt. The other inmates had backed off a little, wondering what the hell was going on with the Drake brothers, and neither of them had cared one whit. But they were here, and they were ready, and just the fact that Sully was out there and had already contacted Sammy was a huge relief. Sammy didn't have to think they were dead, that they didn't care about him...they'd repeated that mantra to each other countless times over these days, reminding themselves that the most important aspect of everything was already done. 

The door was opened from the inside, and Sully was immediately there with open arms and a pitying, but genuine, smile, stepping forward the second that they were handcuffed and the door was closed to leave them alone. "Boys!" He gave out a long, heavy sigh as he hugged Nathan very, very tightly. "God, it's good to see you," he said in his wonderful signature rumble. Sam noticed that he didn't even have a cigar, and he looked a little haggard. It had really been wearing thin on Sully, Nathan's supposed 'death'. He'd only been thirteen when they'd started working together in Colombia. "You too," Nathan said, hugging back and feeling emotion strum in his chest, "You have no idea." 

"Sam," Sully pulled him in for a long hug without any hesitation, and Sam was surprised by the depth of the happiness that sprung up in his own chest at the contact. Sully really had been a wreck, and neither man could deny (nor would admit) that tears started to sting their eyes a little. "I'm so glad you boys are all right." 

"We're surprisingly hard to kill," Nate smirked, and the mischief on his face was so much like the happy Nathan of old that Sully nearly cried from relief. He'd missed these boys so much. He really had. 

The moment passed as both brothers quickly moved on to the most important topic. "So did you tell him? Did you tell Sammy?" Nate asked, both him and Sam laser-focused on the older man now. Sully stepped back further into the office, sitting down in a chair as he answered. "Yes, he's all right," he said, and Nathan's shoulders lowered--but Sam hadn't missed the man's subtle avoidance of the actual question. "Victor," he said in a low, warning voice, stepping further in (Nathan caught onto his brother's suspicion, and followed suit more slowly). "What's wrong?"

Sully sighed. "He's fine, but he's not at the orphanage." 

"What?" Both boys' voices were raised and rushed, their looks dismayed. "What the hell are you talking about?" Sam asked, brow furrowed and any relaxation gone. Neither man sat down, and Sully knew better than to even bother asking them to. 

Sully leaned forward. "I called the orphanage, and I asked for Sister Catherine just like you said. She'd quit, left the job AND the Church, but I got hold of her and she said that Sammy was out. Burst out crying on the phone, she was so happy. Said she'd been praying day and night that you two were alive to come back for him. He's OKAY," he emphasized again as the tension on both boys' faces mounted, Sam's hands clenching into fists and Nathan swallowing hard, "but he did leave. Sends her postcards sometimes, and he's got an emergency cell phone that she made him take, so we CAN call him. I already did, and so did she. Plus she texted him messages to tell him. No answer yet--but Sam he DOES have it, so he'll get it soon enough." He did a calming gesture with his hands at that last sentence, seeing that Sam looked like he was about to actually explode--but it had no real effect, and Sam's eyes were sharp.

"That's not your bad news." Sam's voice was low and gravelly, his accent getting thicker as he got more upset. Nathan turned white at hearing that, and he looked nervously between them, stepping closer. "What? Sully, WHAT?" he asked plaintively, his voice growing higher as Sam's got lower. 

Sully sighed again, looking somber. "He's looking for you." 

Sam just stared at him, while Nate started speaking, his voice's pitch rising in disbelief. "What, ALONE? Are you kidding me? Sully--" he stepped closer, while Sam started pacing like a tiger, hand in his hair and head turned to the ground. "are you KIDDING? Where is he?!" 

Sully stood up to calm Nathan, who was visibly upset. Sam was still pacing, and still looked like he was going to hit Victor, a thought which discomfited the latter greatly. Sam had a hell of a right hook. "I don't know," he said, his own voice getting louder over Nathan's, since Nathan had started babbling "Jesus Christ, they're supposed to keep him in the orphanage how the fuck would he run away how'd they lose him and how could she LET him do that-Sully where IS HE-"

"I DON'T KNOW!" Sully roared. Sam was still pacing, but his yell did the trick with Nathan and made him stay still. Nate's mouth was shut, but he was clearly on the verge of exploding again.

"Victor," Sam's voice was even lower "you telling us that you don't know where our little brother is?" 

"I'll find him," Sully answered, his voice resolute, and they believed him. But the look in his eyes said that there was more. "But he's--"

"What?" Nate threw his hands up in the air with worry. "Sully he's WHAT?"

"He's asking for help from a lot of bad people." Both boys were silent and stared at him in horror now. Sam's red face was now also going white. Sully's next words came out in a rush, clearly in an effort to assuage their growing worries. "He's doing the only thing he could think of, so he's asking anyone and everyone who might be a criminal about you and he's actually making some headway--"

"What, he's just WALKING UP TO CRIMINALS AND ASKING THEM ABOUT US?" Sam snapped, his voice now loud and his own hands going up in the air. "Jesus fucking Christ--"

"I'LL FIND HIM," Sully repeated firmly, but Sam started pacing again with a scoff, looking more upset than Sully had ever seen him. Nate was still looking at Sully, strangely calmer now that his brother was acting out. "Sully, WHY is he doing that?"

Sully shrugged. "I...I think it's probably all he could think of TO do," he said grimly, watching Sam pace furiously in the corner. "He's just a kid-"

"Exactly Victor, he's just a GODDAMN kid," Sam said, suddenly spinning to get in Victor's face before going back to pacing again. He looked over at Nathan as he paced to see what his younger brother was making of the news. Nathan was staring down at the opposite wall, thinking, his face sad. Thrown by the look, Sam's pace faltered, and he shifted his route to pace within sight of his brother so he could keep his eyes on him as he spoke. "Nathan?" Sully asked, seeing where Sam's focus was going. 

"Something happened," Nate murmured. 

Sam scoffed and started pacing normally again. "Yeah you're goddamn fucking right something happened, Nathan. Our fourteen-year-old brother is alone in the criminal underworld." 

Nathan started shaking his head before Sam finished speaking. "No Sam, something HAPPENED. It must've." He turned around, done with his mumblings, to talk to the other two guys. His gaze moved between both of them, gesticulating with his hands as he spoke, the wheels in his head clearly done turning and a little color back in his face.

"Listen. Sam is Sammy's biggest brother." He said this as if he were teaching Sully a class, pointing to Sam as he did so. Sam started shifting in place instead of pacing, clearly in a rush for the punch line. "So?" Sully asked. "Nathan, we don't have a lot of time--"

"SO Sammy does whatever Sam TELLS him to, no questions asked. Sam says jump, Sammy jumps, right away." He snapped his fingers, still looking between the two of them. "If Sam says STAY, SAMMY STAYS. HE" pointing to Sam again "said stay in the orphanage and be good, so Sammy stays! He'd stay there until he died just because Sam told him to stay! So he wouldn't go rogue and just LEAVE"

"unless something happened." Sam had caught on, his face grim but thoughtful. They heard footsteps outside, and Nate took point.

"Okay Sully, come back as soon as Vargas says you can, and put out feelers everywhere, with EVERY contact you've got. Tell them they're looking for a dark-haired teenage kid who comes asking about a Sam and Nathan, and to KEEP HIM THERE until you can get to him. Okay?" Sully nodded. "Then keep him safe and get him to stay PUT. Got it?" Sully was already nodding as the guards opened the door. "I'll tie him down if I have to. I'll see you soon, boys," he said as they both moved to be handcuffed. Sam looked unhappy, but less stressed, and Nate looked relieved to have a plan. "And I'll find him, I promise," he called out as the door shut behind them.


	8. Chapter 8

Sammy jumped down onto the airport's tarmac with a little hop, the sunlight blazing overhead. He didn't have sunglasses, and he guessed he probably should've as he squinted and headed forward, hoisting his backpack over his good arm. The man he was looking for was somewhere here in Essaouira, and he'd been told that he tended to be in the marketplace. Asef, his name was; and Sammy's natural knack for languages meant that he'd already learned the basics of the Berber one while on the plane. He'd learned several languages in that plethora of free time he'd had for...well...his whole life, and the "foster parents" had let him use library books to learn even more since it made him more popular with some of the men. He knew from experience and practice that it could literally take him less than a day to learn the elementary basics of a language, his sharp memory being a huge asset. He may not have been very smart in everything, but he was a downright savant when it came to this. 

That talent had been particularly helpful these past few weeks; he'd had to speak in everything from Italian to Portuguese to Cantonese to Russian to French while searching for his brothers. He'd been beaten pretty badly for his troubles--turned out, nobody in Boston liked a kid showing up in the middle of the night with vague questions, and most of the men were notorious for a reason. If he hadn't been smart enough to never bring all of his new money with him for these "meetings", it would definitely have been stolen already like his emergency cell phone had. As it was now, he was incredibly sore and tired. Since it was summer, he'd been sleeping outside wherever he could--usually in the more forested national parks or in backyards that didn't have dogs--but the insecurity of those positions, and his nightmares, meant that he woke up every few minutes with a start. 

The nightmares were still the normal ones--brothers dead, being raped, vague ones about mom, even vaguer ones about dad; he didn't even LET himself think about Tommy and Robby. But once in a while someone would walk by wearing something really, really red, and the vision of their blood would just come straight back--

His stomach rumbled, and he dismissed it. Food was also something he hadn't been getting; not because of money, thankfully, but because he just didn' t feel like he had the time. He had to find them, and he had to find them NOW. Only when he started to feel woozy did he get something to eat. 

Today, something smelled really good as he stepped out of the taxi he'd hired. The market was absolutely packed, but he knew from the taxi driver that it would calm down a little after midday. The hottest time, and therefore the standard "siesta" time.

It only took him about twenty minutes--and a lot of the questions "Hello, I'm looking for Asef?" or "Do you know Asef?" in the best Berber he could muster--to find Asef at a meat-pie stand. Sammy's mouth watered, and he bought one immediately, figuring that it was okay to eat now because Asef might like him better for buying something. He'd already seen that speaking the more local language had been a boon, too, so that was another advantage. 

With a polite, but grim smile--he'd learned in Boston that his nice, friendly, happy smile was actually just a sign of vulnerability--he spoke quietly to the man in a brief, straightforward conversation, and bought two more meatpies while he was at it. 

Pleased by the purchases--and curious about the boy who still had fresh bruises, and a hard look in his eye--Asef was very helpful. "He is not here anymore," he said to Sammy, whose jaw twitched tight. Asef continued quickly, feeling strangely afraid--the boy looked mad, not so much sad "But I hear he has a home location in Scotland. A cathedral there, he bought all the land--if you wait there, he will come back--" Sammy was already leaving, holding up his meatpies in thanks and giving a little head-dip, as he spoke. 

Strange boy, Asef thought. Strange, mad boy. Very angry, that one, he mused sadly before turning back to his cart. 

Meanwhile, Sammy was headed back to the airport, his face grim; the sunlight burned his eyes, but he didn't even squint. He refused to let pain or panic settle in his chest; he refused to see this as a failure. It was just another step, that was all, he told himself, repeating it like a mantra. Just one more step. Almost there...

He would wait in Scotland, and he would make the man tell him everything the second he came back. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Just a couple days later, Sam and Nathan were back in Vargas's office for a visit with Sully. Vargas had let him visit, or relay messages down from the front gate, a few times in the past few weeks. The Drake brothers could have sainted him for it. 

Today, they were both shifting restlessly in place as they waited for the cuffs to come off and the door to close. Sully's face looked serious--and as soon as they'd stepped in the room, they'd seen that there was a woman there with him. Blonde, pretty, and small but well-built, she waited patiently with a polite expression until they were all alone. 

"He's still all right, as far as I know," Sully said immediately, preemptively answering their first question. "I've gotten some outside help; this is Elena Fisher, she's a journalist who's got friends in several of the embassies." 

The boys shook her hand one by one, too distracted to do more than quickly say hi. Sensing their worry, Elena wasted no time with pleasantries. "Your brother's been hard to track--from what Sully's heard, he's very skittish--but I've just found out that he's in Morocco."

"MOROCCO?!" both men said incredulously. "Jesus fucking christ--" Sam muttered, head going to his hair again and already pacing. Nate sank into a chair and held his head in his hands for a moment before looking up. "Nathan, what the HELL IS HE DOING THERE!" Sam snapped in frustration. Nathan looked at him helplessly and shook his head, but there was no hurt on his face; he knew that Sam was upset. 

"We don't know yet, and Essaouira's not a well-covered place," Elena continued, voice serious but empathetic. "So we don't have security footage of him or anything else to show you. All we can do is wait to see where he pops up next." 

"Goddamnit, this is like waiting around for a fish to show up on the surface or something," Nathan muttered angrily. "Exactly, Nathan, we're just sittin' here in the FUCKIN' dark!" Sam snapped, his accent strong and his hands flying up in the air.

"Why's he in Essaouira?" Sully wondered aloud, fingering a cigar but not using it. 

"Nobody knows, Victor, nobody GODdamn knows," Sam continued vindictively, pacing more and uttering new curse words every couple seconds. 

"He's survived this long, that's something," Nathan offered, but he swallowed hard. He and Sam shared a grim glance, and Sam stopped pacing, looking sad. "He's only fourteen," he said, his voice breaking. 

Sully, in an uncharacteristic show of affection towards Sam, stepped forward and gave him a much-needed hug. "We'll get him back, Sam," he said, holding on tight. "He's gonna be fine." 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sammy looked out over the Scottish landscape, impressed. It was beautiful here; he liked the sun and the sand better, but still. He'd never actually SEEN "heather", and now here it was dotting the hills everywhere like common lawn grass. There was a little snow in the air here too, all the time...

An explosion sounded off near the cathedral's outbuildings, and he jumped, face darkening. They were blasting again. 

The man he wanted wasn't here, though, not yet. But he'd eavesdropped on a few of his soldiers--mercenaries, he'd gathered, with some kind of non-Scottish accent--and gathered that the man would be back later today. As it turned out, being a fourteen-year-old-boy in a location where no one would look for one was a plus, and the ruins were filled with good places to hide. He spent his nights at a small hotel in the only nearby town, and got up early to hike all the way here every day. 

Today was finally the day; it had been almost two weeks since he'd left Morocco. After a bit more hiking, he made it to what looked like an informal version of a checkpoint; no one else was ever out here, so he knew his presence would be a surprise. He took a deep breath, shook his bad arm out a little bit (and his good one, too, while he was at it)--it ached and twinged a lot, but surgery would still have to wait--and stepped around the bend, hands in the air. 

"I'm here to see Rafe Adler?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


	9. Chapter 9

The door in the cathedral opened from the outside, and Rafe looked up from the table where he and Nadine were looking over the area maps. 

"Sir, there's someone here to see you. Just showed up at the checkpoint out of nowhere. "

Rafe looked at the Lieutenant curiously. "Who?"

The man shrugged, looking between the two leaders. Nadine knew that her men didn't like working for Rafe, and they didn't like answering to him instead of her. Truth be told, she didn't like working with him either. Things had gotten very complicated, and she needed her men behind HER one hundred percent. 

But for now, he answered Rafe as he shrugged. "Some kid. Kind of beat up. Speaks Xhosa, though," he said, looking at Nadine. She perked up. "Really?" 

He nodded. 

Rafe looked bemused. "Ha, he walked all the way here, why not give him a minute. This should be interesting," he murmured to Nadine sardonically as the other man left to fetch the visitor. "And hey," he added, making the soldier pause, "don't rough him up or anything. The last thing we need is bad publicity for hurting some kid."

Five minutes later, Sammy was being led through the ruins, surprised to see dynamite and mercenaries almost everywhere. Some snow was falling, but none of the men seemed to care--although they DID care about seeing HIM, if their outright stares and comments in Xhosa were any indication. Sammy couldn't resist responding when he heard a nearby one ask "Eish. Yintoni isihogo inyana eyenza yonke indlela apha?" (Wow. What the hell is a kid doing all the way out here?) 

 

"Ndilapha ukuze ndibone uRafe" (I'm here to see Rafe), he said, the big lieutenant standing tall behind him as they walked. He kept his hands in his pockets, to avoid being seen as a threat. 

At his comment, the men's curiosity sharpened. Sammy had the feeling they were really bored up here in the Scottish outlands--not to mention homesick--and would relish a novelty. 

"Hayi, jonga le nkwenkwe apha! mnandi, nyana! Impilo!" (Heyyyy, look at the boy here! Nice one, kid! Cheers!" He spoke loudly, with a big grin, and turned his head to call out to the others. Discomfited by the interest in his charge, the Lieutenant--Orca, apparently--started Sammy forward by kind of moving against him. 

Being around all these large men was making Sammy a little uncomfortable, but he loved the Xhosa language and was drawn in by the men's smiles. Maybe he could chat with them later, if that was allowed...their friendly smiles and approving hollers made it feel like he was invited to a cool frat party or something. 

But Orca was nudging him forward, not unkindly, and so with a wave and his own "Bahlali, baqabane!" (Cheers, mates!) the pair kept going forward, the cathedral looming up an old stone stair. 

Ten minutes and a climb later, he was at the door. Orca knocked, and it opened from the inside, to show a sleek young brunette man looking down with lazy curiosity and a serious African woman behind him. Orca gave Sammy a friendly tap on the back and left, and the man backed up. "Come on in, kid. I'm Rafe Adler."

Sammy stepped in, hands in pockets but posture straight and face serious. The bruises gave him a grim visage. "This is Nadine Ross," Rafe gestured, and she stepped forward with a neutral expression. "Now what," he asked leisurely, leaning against the map table "are you doing all the way out here?" "I'm...Sammy," he said, watching Rafe for a reaction, voice questioning. "Sammy Drake?" 


	10. Chapter 10

Sammy didn't know much about Rafe--but anyone who did know the man would have known that it was a huge rarity to see the man actually surprised, and would have paid good money to see it. They missed out on that treat today: Rafe's shoulders dropped, his mouth opened, and his eyes widened. 

They were quick to narrow to hostile, tension-filled slits, assessing him and covering some quick thinking, but Sammy didn't miss the reaction for even a moment, his own brown eyes carefully analyzing Rafe's. 

"You've got to be kidding me." Rafe's voice came out smooth and laced with a venomous annoyance that failed to completely cover a slight unease. Nadine clearly picked up on it, too, and started watching him closely. She was content to stay out of this, but she'd never seen Rafe so spooked. 

"Do you know where my brothers are?" Sammy didn't miss a beat, and Nadine was impressed. This boy was clearly unruffled by Rafe's intimidation techniques, and he clearly wasn't falling for his bluffed confidence. The boy had a somber, desperately longing look on his eyes, revealing how young he really was, but it was also tinged with something...else. A menace, or a violence. She had a feeling he was on edge. Very on edge. She stepped a little closer to Rafe. 

Rafe was still staring at the boy, but definitely looked nervous now. For once, he seemed to be at a loss for words. Nadine got the feeling he was unsure how to play this. 

Sammy, however, was wasting no time. He knew not to give the weasel a chance to conjure up a lie, and the surprise visit had definitely been an advantage.

 

"Sam and Nathan. You know where they are." It was not a question, and his dark eyes pierced Rafe's lighter ones. Taken further aback by the boy's intensity, Rafe straightened nervously from the table. "Nadine, can you give us a minute?" 

Nadine looked reluctant to leave, but nodded. "I'll be right outside." She looked at Sammy curiously as she stepped by him, the last name Drake not being lost on her. She hadn't met the other ones, but she knew they had been Rafe's old partners--and she knew where they were, too. She honestly hoped Rafe told him. Menacing and dark-eyed or not, he was still just a boy. One who looked very very lost at the mention of his big brothers. 

Once she left, Rafe ran a hand through his hair. "Well, this is awkward." 

Sammy had been up to more than just friendly South African chatter on the walk up here; amidst the jocular conversation with the soldiers, and jostling up against Orca on the stairs, he'd been able to get the man's pistol easily. Sammy was no Sam when it came to being a pickpocket, but the boredom and the welcome distraction of their native language had fortunately made the men lax, and the lieutenant hadn't searched him again after the initial search at the checkpoint. Nor had he had any reason to check for his gun. 

So now Sammy could feel the gun tucked into his pants near the back of his right hip, held in place by the curve and the muscle there and the line of his fitted sweatpants under his light fleece. 

Rafe looked the boy over, still nervous but also a bit impressed. He looked like a serious kid, but good-looking, and one who was probably only going to get more so. His bone structure and the line of his mouth hinted at what would be a jolly, happy smile if it was ever encouraged out, and he had long long eyelashes. 

Sammy had honestly been improvising ever since arriving at the checkpoint; he hadn't originally planned on stealing a gun, or speaking Xhosa, and he hadn't had any real way of knowing what this meeting room would look like until he got here. But now he did, and he'd cased the space. It would all depend on what Rafe did next. 

Rafe let out a rueful little laugh and put his hands on his hips lightly, cocking his head to look at the boy. "You do look like Sam. Nathan, too, but mostly Sam. Weird to see." He paced a little, hands lifting to gesture, and Sammy sensed that this guy liked to talk. Either that, or he was stalling to feel Sammy out. Maybe both. "They talked about you, you know. Couple times. God. How old are you?" 

"Fourteen," Sammy said. 

"Hm. Sounds about right." 

Sammy wanted to smack him. 'Sounds about right'? As if he was faking, or part of a fraud? Unbelievable. Sammy wanted desperately to jam the gun down his throat and ask where his brothers were again, but this man clearly wanted to talk slowly and meander for a bit first. Which, considering the years, was so frustrating that Sammy found it really, really hard to do; but he clenched his toes in his shoes, instead of his fists, and kept his eyes on the man while he toyed with him.

"So who beat you up?" Rafe pointed at his bruises. Sammy didn't think he'd noticed his limp arm, and kept that hand down near his pocket in a deceptively casual position. 

"Lots of people. I had to start from the bottom asking questions since I didn't even know where to go." 

Rafe whistled low. "And how long did that take you?"

Sammy shrugged. "Couple months, give or take."

Rafe looked curious again, reminding Sammy of a feline who was amused by a mouse. 

"You work fast. At fourteen, shouldn't you still be in the orphanage? Won't they be...expecting you to be there, in case they come back?" 

Rafe seemed to flush a little at that last statement, and his gaze faltered for a second in a weird blink. It was a piteous attempt at maintaining his bogus facade of ignorance, trying to pretend he still didn't know in a feeble gesture, and Sammy's jaw twitched. This asshole knew exactly where they were, and the youngest Drake was betting his life on it. But pulling the gun on him needed to be a last resort--so Sammy figured he'd start by seeing if the guy still had a heart. He let the fear and desperation and loss he always felt deep in his gut show in his eyes and echo in his voice, for once.

"I was just a little kid when they left me behind, and I've grown up thinking that they didn't want me. Have you ever felt like that? Unwanted, abandoned?" He didn't let Rafe sit on that long before continuing. "Please, they're my only family. They're the ONLY people I have. I don't care what you're up to or anything, I won't make trouble for you, I literally just want to see them again..." he stared at Rafe, eyes big and Nadine listened raptly on the other side of the door. 

Rafe shifted, and he sighed with a reluctant look on his face. His eyes turned weaselly again, and he muttered "They're in the biggest prison in Panama. East coast. Prision Nacional. Been there a few years." 

Sammy waited to hear if he said anything else, barely keeping his toes in place and fighting the urge to bolt out the door. He let his smile show, and Rafe looked startled. "Thank you," Sammy said, shoulders heaving in relief and excitement, "THANK you." 

Rafe actually looked happy and a little shy, the weasel smirk gone. "You're welcome." He watched as Sammy left, passing by Nadine, and shook off the smile to replace it with his usual glower when she came back in. "That was a nice thing you did, telling him the truth," she said quietly, gauging his mood. He scoffed. "Eh, I left his big brothers in prison to rot. Might as well let him visit." And in the meantime, Sammy was escorted back out, thanking his lucky stars that he hadn't had to use the gun. 


	11. Chapter 11

Sam and Nathan were brought back in for another visit with Victor and Elena, eager to hear if there was any progress. Nate had continued doing an obsessive level of push-ups day and night to feebly try and remove his stress, while Sam had been alternating between doing sit-ups and snapping at Nathan and smoking like an actual chimney. He hated feeling out of control, and he really, really hated it when it had anything to do with his baby brothers. Nate knew all of this already, and took no offense at the grumpy Sam's tense outbursts, instead focusing on the sensation of his muscles contracting with every lift and bend. 

Now, they entered the room to see Victor sitting down, and Elena absent. 

"Where's Elena?" Nathan asked as Sam simultaneously asked "Did you find him?"

Victor leaned forward, his face serious. "He's all right. Just got done somewhere, and he made some serious headway." 

"So where is he NOW?" Nate's question was a little frustrated, since they'd missed him again. 

"He's flying somewhere else, and Elena and I have finally got a pretty damn good idea where he's headed." Sully smiled a little, grimly. Sam and Nathan's posture both grew straighter, their bodies alert and tense with anticipation. 

Victor took a breath before speaking, and Sam viciously threatened in his husky Boston drawl, "Victor I swear to God if you hold out on us now--"

"He was in Scotland," Sully blurted at the provocation, and the other two jerked back. "Wait," Nathan said, "So that means--"

Victor nodded. "Yup. He's found Rafe." 

His voice was ominous, and there was silence for a few moments. "God's balls, he did it," Sam chuckled, now feeling strangely happy and proud in a disorienting mood shift. 

"Will Rafe tell him? DID he tell him?" Nate asked, face a little happier but still worried. Victor nodded. "My source tells me he actually DID. Did the right thing, for once." 

"Hooooly shit," Sam laughed, bouncing away with his hand in his hair for a second, unable to contain some excitement. "He knows, Nathan. He actually KNOWS." 

"Yes he does," Victor said, his voice still grim, while the two younger men clapped each other on the back. "And you can be DAMN sure he's headed this way. I've got Elena in town keeping an eye out for him." 

Nate's smile was big now to match Sam's, and he clapped Sam on the back again. "Sam, our FOURTEEN-YEAR-OLD brother just found us all by himself!" 

Sam's grin was huge, and he shook his head knowingly, laughing a little. "Strong Drake blood, what'd I tell ya!" Nate knew he was elated, and laughed too, forgetting for a second that he was even IN prison. It felt like Christmas morning, but way way better. 

"Boys, there's something else," he said. "My source told me she saw the boy when he came in to meet Rafe up at the cathedral." 

"How'd he look?" Nate asked, eager and still a little concerned. 

"Well-built, but a little skinny. Definitely cagey and skittish, which isn't surprising. And...serious. Or, determined maybe. She said she thought he seemed on edge, like he'd do anything. And apparently he looks like both of you," Victor gestured between them with his cigar, and both brothers swelled with pride. 

Nate's high dipped a little as he noticed Victor's still-grim expression. "What?'

Victor shifted in his seat, then stood up to get closer to them abruptly. "Listen, I don't think your brother's coming here just to visit you." He looked at them pointedly, waiting for them to get it. 

It only took a moment--both boys thought of it, dismissed it, and then thought of it again and grasped it firmly. "Wait--wha--he's not breaking us OUT, is he?" Nate whispered, eyes widening in dismay. 

"Or TRYING to?" Sam said, face changing to match Nathan's. 

Victor sighed. "I think that's EXACTLY what he's planning to do. He's coming for you, boys." The Drake brothers both stepped back in shock for a second, touching their hair and uttering curses. Sam's were louder. 

"Goddamnit. Jesus fucking Christ--" 

"Sully, you've gotta stop him," Nate said urgently. "Head him off and STOP him." 

"I'm planning on it," Sully said. "But he's a slippery one. So...be ready." He shrugged at Sam's glare. "I'm just saying be ready, Sam. Elena and I will do our best to keep him from making a try for it." 

"Sam...he's made it this far," Nate said tentatively. "Maybe he can actually do it--"

"He's FOURTEEN." Sam's voice was thick with anger and desperation. Nate looked at him sadly. "And Nathan, if he tries, then--"

"I know," Nathan responded, and sighed. "I know..." 

"Hell of a brother you got, either way," Sully said after a moment of nervous and despairing silence, the two men's worry so thick in the air that it was practically visible.

"Yeah," Sam muttered. "Hell of a brother." He was too worried to be proud; but his younger brother Nathan felt a swell of the feeling in his chest all the same. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Several miles away, Sammy stepped out of a store, having just bought a blow torch, rope, binoculars, rudimentary grappling hooks, two climbing axes, a small fanny-pack, and fireworks. He didn't have much of a plan, but he'd do the best he could--and he'd already paid a decent chunk of money to buy a man's small twin-engine motorboat off him in cash. The most important step was finding out where his brothers WERE in the prison--and hoping to God they had a window. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few hours later, when it was getting dark, Nathan took one of his prison shirts and, seeing that no one was looking and Sam was fretfully sleeping, tied it to his window. He'd borrowed a marker from someone, claiming he was going to draft a tattoo on himself; instead, he'd written a very large S on one part of the shirt and an N on another. Together, the shirt--as he carefully laid it out of their window's bars, standing on his cot to do so, checking to make sure it could be read and seen--said "S and N". 

And in the bushes below, up against the cliffs that led straight to the water, with the boat waiting further down after he'd awkwardly taught himself how to drive it, was Sammy crouching, watching, and waiting. He really didn't have much of a plan for tonight; he figured he'd try to bribe a guard in a nearby cafe or something in town, probably during the day tomorrow. Tonight, he just wanted to see them--or IMAGINE seeing them, in there--and stare at the place that had kept his brothers from him for so many years. It had felt so, so long--

A flash of light blue showed up at a window and caught his eye. It was several floors up, and almost looked like a tower since the whole place was structured like an old medieval castle. With the binoculars, he looked at it--and his heart nearly jumped out of his chest to see the S and the N. He took a moment to stare at it, muttered a "Holy fucking shit!" to himself in disbelief, and then stared at it again and again, memorizing the view and the window's position. 

Okay, new plan, he thought after the miraculous reality had set in. Time to set off some fireworks.

It had only taken a bit of maneuvering to set the fireworks up for delayed starts, and Sammy had sprinted back to his brothers' side of the prison after setting the celebratory explosions into position close to the prison's opposite one. They would go off in about five minutes, if there was a God...

Having already tied the grappling hooks to the ropes, he wrapped the now Tarzan-style ropes around his neck in a loose loop, the hooks bouncing lightly against his chest. The blowtorch was in the fanny pack, and he clipped it around his neck to hang at his throat, making sure it wouldn't get dislodged or unzipped while he climbed. 

The climb...he looked up at his brothers' window, the makeshift flag still flying with a tiny breeze, then glanced back. The boat was securely anchored, and it was a calm sea tonight. But it might not be for long, and those fireworks were about to go off...

He picked up the climbing axes, swinging them a few times in his hands to get a feel for them. He'd climbed a little with his brothers, but nowhere near as much as they had already gotten to do in life, and he'd never climbed a long, vertical stone tower with axes before. And he was worried about his arm...the ax felt okay in his left hand, for now, and he hadn't want to stretch it beforehand in case it caused some kind of convulsions of the muscles there. 

He looked up at the wall, at his brothers' flag, and then back at the wall itself, and thought 'This is gonna suck'. 

But he did some sprightly little hops in place, shaking out his head and neck, fidgeting with the axes in his hands to get a good grip, thankful that all he had left were some pretty major bruises from the beatings. The fireworks started going off right on time, their explosions being the distraction he needed and covering the sounds his axes would presumably be making. Fortunately, he'd bought a LOT of fireworks. It wasn't a stormy night, or anything, and the quiet was NOT what he needed, so they'd have to go off for a long time. Especially since he needed to get back down. 

As soon as the first fireworks went off, he stared at his brothers' window, jaw locking in grim determination, and took a big breath and lunged upwards, catching the axes in the wall awkwardly and roughly before stabilizing his footing and starting up. 'Don't look down,' he told himself. 'Just don't look down.' The stone walls meant that he really had to RAM the axes in to get a good grip and a base for the next steps, which was already draining and would no doubt prove exhausting. 

Fifteen minutes later, his left arm twinged, and ached, and he gritted his teeth. He couldn't lift it to ram the axe into the wall without letting out some grunts of pain, and tears were being squeezed out of his eyes from the pain as he clenched them almost closed with every one of the arm's movements. It was weaker than the right, since he didn't work it out as much, although they still looked the same size for now. All he could do was be glad the arm wasn't broken in the bone sense; tendon and nerve injuries were bad, too, but a bone break would have meant that he could definitely NOT do this. 

And THIS was exhausting. His shirt was completely soaked in sweat, and it had started to rain a little, light but steady. His battered body hurt with every reach and lift, particularly his ribs, making him gasp. The rain made the axes' grips all the more important, so he had to really hit the axes in, although leg-wise he felt like he was getting the hang of it. His sneakers had lots of treads on them, which were helping, although once in a while his legs would swing midair for a second and he felt like he was going to jump out of his own skin from fright. He didn't know how high up he was, but he was close to the window now, and so he had a solid terrifying hunch. A crash of lightning happened abruptly, and Sammy almost passed out as the yellow light illuminated him brightly on the wall for a flash second. Then it was back to just the moon's light, although his heart kept racing. 

He could still hear the fireworks going off--he'd literally bought out the store's supply, with some lame-ass excuse about a big party--and knew they'd keep going for a little while, unless the rain or wind got stronger. He continued going up, eyes crying on their own from the pain and his arm hurting more than it even had when he'd gotten hurt. Finally the 'flag' flapped in front of his face, and his pain was momentarily forgotten as he realized he was arriving at his brothers. Finally, finally, finally--

The fireworks went off again, a big one this time, and he pulled himself up to the barred windowsill with a heave. His voice came out as a tense whisper. "Nathan!"

Nathan and Sam had been looking out the window at the fireworks when they started. "It's not Cinco de Mayo yet, is it?" Sam asked, his expression serious. "No," Nathan said back, hoping Sam didn't notice the shirt he'd tied. But Sam only looked for a moment at what little they could see of the fireworks' light before going back down to his cot with a sigh. Nate kept watching, being someone who had always loved fireworks, and Sam looked at him with a flicker of affectionate amusement before going back to being grumpy and tense. 

"Hey, Sam, you hear that?" Nathan asked after a while. 

"What?" Sam was laying with one hand behind his head and one on his abs, staring at the ceiling. His brow furrowed and he sat up, noticing Nate's alertness. 

"That sound...like a thumping, or something. It's getting a little louder." 

Sam tilted his head and listened for a second, staring at the ground, then another firework went off and he shrugged. "I don't know, Nathan--"

"There!" Nathan held out a hand in a silence motion, and they both heard it in the brief space between two explosions. Sam stood up now, listening too. "The hell is that?" Sam asked. It was mostly rhetorical, since he figured Nathan didn't know either. 

There was a crash of lightning. "Heat lightning, you think?" Sam asked. Nate nodded. "Yeah. Looks clear otherwise." 

"Nice night," Sam said quietly, and they both knew that the other was thinking of Sammy. Out there, in Panama, alone--

"Nathan!" 

Sammy's urgent greeting was a reaction to actually seeing Nathan at the window, and his face burst into a big smile automatically. He saw Nate gaping at him, his smile getting huge too, and Sam appeared at his side instantly. 

"Sammy?!" Nate said, "Sammy!!" Both older brothers said his name like he was Jesus Christ himself, and lunged themselves at the window, arms reaching through to touch him in any way they could. They were smiling, disbelief and surprise on their faces. 

"Oh my god Sammy!--"

"Holy SHIT Sammy--" 

"Hi!" Sammy said breathlessly, still hanging uncomfortably from the axes. He leaned forward, and they reached for his neck to hug him as best they could. "Bag!" Sammy gasped out, still smiling, but jaw tightening from the pain of the position, his eyes moving between both brothers and trying to soak in and memorize the sight of them like they were doing to him. 

He craned his neck further forward like a goose, his forehead touching the bars, saying over them "Take the bag--" 

Nate reached around and felt the back of his baby brother's neck for the buckle, unclipping it and taking it quickly. 

"Sammy how the hell did you get up here?" Sam asked, the words in a rush, but Sammy gasped out again "No time! The ropes--"

Sam grabbed them and pulled them through, holding onto Sammy's head affectionately for a second, and Sammy sagged in relief. "G-got a boat," he stammered out, breath coming out hard, and his brothers' faces grew worried, seeing his face creased in pain--"Head straight down from here!" 

His two big brothers' heads jerked back in unison, towards what he assumed what was the entrance to their cell. They clearly heard a guard, and he started back down. "Be-be there!" he stammered out in a huffed whisper before starting back down hurriedly, slipping a little. Nate whispered a "Sammy, wait!" before Sam shushed him with a warning tap to the chest, and they moved to their beds immediately, Nate sitting on the new supplies with his head against the wall. Sam pretended to be doing crunches in his cot as the guard walked by slowly, and Nate gave him a half-hearted wave and a smile--his usual greeting. They'd heard the guards talking a lot when the fireworks started, so obviously they'd gone to check them out; but whether or not they'd figured out that they were supposed to be a distraction was anyone's guess.


	12. Chapter 12

Sammy hustled his way down the tower, mostly just deliberately slipping and catching himself with the axes rather than slowly climbing down. To hell with it, he thought. He'd just seen his brothers, and they were getting OUT--he'd just seen his brothers--

He glanced up to see the blowtorch's sparks, and knew they were coming down and that they'd been smart enough to figure out the plan just like he'd known. Sam and Nathan only had to burn through a few bars, leaving the outermost two as bases for the ropes, and then rappel down. He kept looking up to check on them, hanging in painful limbo,; and soon, being about a third of the way down, he saw them awkwardly crawling out. His brothers weren't small men, but one wriggled out after the other, coming headfirst and then turning onto their back to hook the ropes to the bars. It looked like it was Nathan, and Sammy had the horrible thought that Sam would get left behind. The guards might catch on while he was still inside...Panic made him stay still on the wall, arm and aches be damned, his eyes fixed on his big brother's shape like a puppy waiting for an owner. 

Nathan got out of the window, visible clearly in the fireworks for a second, and held on to his rope and looked down, balancing against the wall with clear agility. Sammy thought he was just looking to see the drop, but realized abruptly that Nathan was actually looking for him to see if he'd made it down. 

He wasn't sure if he was visible in the moonlight's shadows, but Nathan saw him right away--and it took him only a split second to realize what Sammy was anxiously waiting for. 

"Hurry up, Sam, he won't climb until he sees you're out." It was a whisper between the fireworks as Sam slid out of the window and set up his own hooked rope. Sam glanced down at Sammy, still in shock from seeing him, but his angle meant that he couldn't look down easily like Nathan and he had to look back ahead to get in position. 

"It's okay, Sammy, he's out!" Nathan whispered down, chancing a slightly louder volume. When Sammy still didn't move, he gave him a thumbs up. Sammy grudgingly started moving again, but not before Nathan saw his adorably young face looking up at them anxiously--and not before he saw that it was also tight with pain. 

"Okay! Go!" Sam whispered, wasting no time, and they slid down easily, alternating between bounding off the walls and sliding down for sections. 

They were getting close to Sammy, and Sam whispered, sounding giddy, "I can't believe you're really here, Sammy--" when his baby brother's left arm gave out. 

It wasn't too long a fall at that point, but it was enough for them to reach out for him and gasp--and enough for him to land on the green land below with a solid thud that made him roll in pain for a second. He rolled to his feet to see his brothers slipping and sliding, rushing to get down to him. 

"I'm okay," he rasped as they ran up to him anxiously-- and Nathan yanked the ropes down to keep as soon as he heard his response. Sammy briefly saw he had the fanny pack on, presumably keeping the blowtorch. 

His brothers were still so much bigger than him, and they seemed like tall shadows in the dark. Then the moon shifted, and he could see their smiles and their stares at him. But there was no time--he gestured towards the boat with his head and his good arm, saying "Come on!", and was so nervous about this not working that he seriously contemplated a sea monster eating the boat and taking away their escape. 

Sam and Nathan were on him immediately; they caught up to him, one on each side, and embraced him tightly as they walked, shaking him and cuddling his head a lot and ruffling his buzzed hair and squeezing him against them in excitement, saying a whole lot of "Holy shit, Sammy!"s and "Oh my God, Sammy!"s. Sammy was reminded of how he and Nathan used to cheer Sam's name when he came to visit them in the orphanage--but he was too busy grinning up at them, head bobbing left to right and back again, with little laughs, absorbing every touch, to go down memory lane. There was too much joy in his heart to care about anything else; he felt like he could fly. 

They got to the shore then, and saw that the boat was still anchored in. Sam let out a girlishly giddy laugh as they started swimming, and Sammy swam for all his might even though his arm was killing him. His crawl was barely half a crawl, and he took in some salty water, but made it. His two big brothers had made it onboard before him--good thing they'd kept in shape--and reached down for him, giggling like schoolboys and chattering in excited whispers. 

"Come on, Sammy!" They both whispered, waving him closer. Sammy coughed a little, but was still grinning enormously as they lifted him up, their hands moving quickly from his arms to his torso to pick him up out of the water dripping.

"Anchor, anchor!" Sammy whispered before they could talk again, gesturing at the anchor chain and panting a little, but still smiling. It felt like none of them would ever stop smiling again. Nate quickly moved to lift it, and Sam started the boat, beckoning to Sammy to come with him under the captain's awning. Sammy joined him, and Nathan a few seconds after, the anchor up now. It would've taken Sammy a few minutes, but Nate had the broad shoulders and arms of a linebacker (despite the graceful litheness of the rest of his body), and he'd made quick work of the chains.

"Go slow," Sammy whispered, wanting the boat to stay quiet despite the temptation to really really gun it. He was literally embedded in the crook of Sam's well-muscled left arm, his happy words of caution managing to escape despite the wonderfully tight hold his biggest brother had on him. Sam was clinging to him like HE'd used to do to him as a little kid, steering the boat with his right arm. Nate showed up instantly on his left, jokingly saying "Hey, you gotta share!" to Sam. Sam kept looking ahead, save for a loving glance down at Sammy under his arm, then smirked back ahead and said "No way, little brother-" 

Nate swept Sammy up in a hug anyway from the side, including their big brother's arm in it, and kissing his younger one's head tightly, tenderly. 

"God, I'm SO happy to see you Sammy," he said, a little wetly, kissing his head and squeezing him tightly. "You have no idea how badly we wanted to get word to you out-" 

Sam snuck in a kiss too, grinning broadly. His eyes were wet. "I can't believe you did this," he said, but it was a voice brimming with happiness and pride. He shook Sammy again and ruffled his head, making Nathan shake too, and Sammy laughed. 

They both kissed his head at the same time again, with a big squeeze, and Sam said "All right, crazy as it is, where am I going here Sammy?" , nodding with his head out to the sea around them and the dark sky up ahead.

"This was literally the whole plan, so wherever," Sammy laughed. Nate laughed, and Sam chuckled. 

"Okay, we should tell Sully and Elena we're out," Nate said, sounding giddy still and letting his exhilarated breath out with a whoosh. "Boat phone," Sammy gestured, still being squeezed. 

Nate reached for it, glancing at Sammy again with joy, and suddenly redirected his focus. "Hey, who beat you up?" He asked, concerned, and Sammy felt Sam looking down at him and forcibly tilting him back a little to look him over. Sammy kept his eyes on Nathan and gave a little shrug, not expecting these questions quite so soon. "Everybody," he said with a rueful little laugh.

"You good?" Sam asked protectively, sounding so much like he used to that Sammy smiled again. "Yeah, I'm good." He was great, actually, although his arm REALLY hurt. Nate gave his head a ruffle and picked up the phone. 

"You have friends here?" Sammy asked, and Sam's hold tightened again cozily. "Fortunately we do. But there's time for that later. For now we're gonna fly!" 

And, far enough away now, Sammy let Sam gun it.


	13. Chapter 13

Two hours later, the boys were knocking on a first-floor hotel door, a nearby light flickering with moths' shadows in the pitch-dark of the early early morning. After the call on the boat, Sully and Elena had moved to another town further north, technically in Costa Rica, since Nathan and Sam would be searched for soon. They were probably looking for them already.

As the new hotel room door opened quickly, Sully greeted them with a huge grin, ushering them in fast as he spoke but excitedly before shutting the door. "I'll be damned," he said as the men stepped in, still keeping Sammy tightly between them. "Congratulations, boys, you're out!! Hell's bells, kid," he said, shaking Sammy's right hand, even though Sammy was still being tightly hugged around the head and neck on both sides. Sammy was glad he'd picked that one, because he was honestly going to pass out if he even touched the other one--but he grinned back, and it was genuine despite the pain. "You actually did it," he said, his loud grumbly voice sounding surprisingly nice. Sammy liked him immediately, and something about his timbre comforted him--as did the faint whiff of Cuban cigars. "After all the chasing Elena and I have done after you, I can genuinely say it's a pleasure to meet you. Really had us scrambling, though, didn't he Elena? Definitely a Drake," he chuckled low, and nodded towards Elena.

A friendly-looking blonde woman, just a bit taller than Sammy, stepped forward. She was dressed in cargo shorts and a pale pink tank top, her hair up, and was grinning. Sammy shook her hand, smiling. "Nice to finally meet you," she said, her voice surprisingly low and warm. "And now, boys, which'll it be first? Showers, cheeseburgers, or--" she held up two visibly cold Coronas, and Sammy heard both his brothers gasp before Sam started chuckling slowly and deviously "beers?" 

"Beers," Sam said. "DEFINITELY beers."

Ten minutes later, Nate was just out of the shower, saying "Holy CRAP that feels good." They'd taken just a few sips of beers, sighing with delight and groaning, before the desire for hygiene overcame them. He was in nice clean new sweatpants, and rubbing his head luxuriously with a towel. Sam and Nathan had wanted to keep talking to Sammy, and hugging him, but he'd laughed and told them that there was time. 

"My turn--" Sam hustled into the shower immediately, grinning with excitement. "Holy shit, I can't believe this is happening." Then he shut the door, preparing to relish the experience of being genuinely clean for the first time in years. 

Sammy could use a shower and some food, too, but nowhere near as badly. He was content to sit down at the table with Sully and Elena, listening to them talk about how they'd been trying to find him across the world. 

"You really had us up in a tizzy," Sully was saying. "Every contact I had was on high alert. I only just sent out the message to call it off, didn't I, Elena." 

She nodded, holding her own beer and leaning over the table casually. "Yep."

"How do you know them?" Sammy asked, trying really really hard to focus on the conversation and not the pain. His arm was throbbing now, and he could feel things...twitching inside it, and twinging. He hoped the spasms weren't actually visible yet. Holy Christ this was starting to hurt, and the rest of his body felt like it was going to crumble. If his arm didn't just straight-up fall OFF first-- 

"Well, Sully here knew them already, but I was just called in because he knew I've got friends in some of the embassies. We figured we'd watch the airlines, see which flights you took. I'm a journalist," she said, "and I do a lot of work in Sully's kind of circles."

Sully laughed, agreeing, and Sammy smiled. This was just as Nathan was coming in and Sam was going out, and Nathan immediately sat down next to Sammy and jerked their chairs together by putting his arm around him, still shirtless and damp, skin gleaming. Elena politely looked away, although not before thinking 'Damn, that's one fine man.' 

"Oh my god, I still just can't believe you did this!" He said, focused completely on Sammy, both of their grins huge--although Sammy was really in a lot of pain, so his didn't show any teeth. He didn't want Nathan to see that he was clenching them--although if this pain didn't stop soon, he might have to ask for medicine, and that meant he'd have to tell his brothers anyway. "It's a lot to digest, y'know? My fourteen year-old brother has just broken us out of prison!" He gave Sammy an affectionate little shake. "And my God, look at you! Look how big you've gotten! Look at your MUSCLES!" He squeezed Sammy's right bicep with his free hand, and Sammy thanked Christ that he hadn't squeezed the left. He definitely would have whimpered. 

"You look just like how I always thought you'd look. Hey, Sully, does he look like me?" Nathan asked, grabbing Sammy's face affectionately and squeezing his cheeks a little, making his face pose for them goofily. Sam kept his amused, crooked smile on, but let a laugh shake his chest so Nathan knew he thought it was funny. 

"Actually, yeah," Sully said. "He sure does. Mix of both of you, plain as day." 

Elena nodded. "Yeah, definitely." 

Nathan preened a little and took a long sip of his beer, sighing with pleasure and contentment, immediately focusing on his little brother again--until Elena held up the bag of cheeseburgers. 

"You're hungry, right?" she said with a warm smile, handing the bag over quickly as Nathan reached for it with his free hand, eyes wide and giddy like a kid's. "Gimme! Oh, hell yes," he said to the burgers as Sam stepped out of the shower, bullet scars on his well-defined torso but otherwise just as buff and gleaming as Nathan, if not a tad more leanly-built than his broad-shouldered little brother. 

"HaHA! That was AMAZING!" Sam breathed, also still shirtless, stretching with a sigh and seeing everyone at the table. He immediately moved to Sammy's left side and waved at Sully like an irritating little fly. "Move down, I wanna sit with Sammy and Nathan." 

Sully grumbled. "I'll have to sit on the ottoman! Do you know how old I am?"

"Don't know, don't care," Sam said, sliding easily into the seat as Sully grudgingly moved, and slipping his right arm around his baby brother's neck to lie there with Nathan's. They both squeezed him again, smiling, and Sam opened his mouth to speak before he saw what Nathan was holding. 

"Holy crap, are those quarter pounders?! Gimme one!" Nathan handed him one too in front of Sammy, and they both took big bites with slow groans and closed eyes. The other three watched them bemusedly as they ate. 

A couple bites later, Nathan's eyes opened and he looked down at his brother. Sammy's stomach hadn't grumbled out loud, but he'd felt it move and writhe a little at the smell of fried meat and cheese. 

"You hungry, Sammy? Here, manna from heaven." Nate handed him one. "I still can't believe you're here," Sam laughed, taking another chomp from the heavy burger and smiling. 

Sammy took the burger from Nathan with a laugh, gritting his teeth while he unwrapped it. His brothers were watching him so closely, and were so perceptive, that he knew they'd pick up on it if he tried to unwrap the food with one hand. So he unwrapped with mostly his right, and just his left fingers a little, but just that made him hurt so much more. 

"When was the last time you ate something, Sammy?" Elena asked. He sensed that she was noticing something was wrong with him, more-so than his brothers since they were still high on the excitement of the situation. 

Sammy shrugged a little under the weight of their arms, and gave her a sheepish smile before lifting the burger up for a bite, pausing to answer. "Couple days ago, I think." He didn't mention that that wasn't abnormal for him; he didn't eat when he was upset, or focused. It was a bad habit, but a strong one, and food didn't mean anything emotionally to him like it did to some people. Food was a form of nutrition, a necessity that he sometimes had to have. 

"Whoaaa, why so long?" Sam asked, face getting serious. Nate looked on, concerned. Sammy laughed. "I was A LITTLE BUSY, Sam!" and bit into the burger, chewing slowly and trying not to gulp it down. The burger was delicious, and he hadn't even been in prison--but its taste still wasn't enough to distract him from his arm.

"Those are some rough bruises you got there," Elena said, her eyes analytical but her voice relaxed. "You all right?"

"Oh, yeah," Sammy said after swallowing. "I'm okay. Arm hurts a little though." Shit; he hadn't meant to mention that. But it had just come out--

"Here," Elena reached down to her bag for medicine, and Nathan jostled Sammy affectionately but far more gently. "Is that from the fall?" he asked.

"Nah, I hurt it a while ago and it just didn't like the climb," he said with a little laugh, taking another bite of his burger and watching Elena as she came back up with a bottle. 

"Aw, that's why you looked like you were in pain," Sam said, still looking serious--but Sammy could sense from the look in his eyes that he'd sensed something was up, and was just deciding to let it go for now. "I thought it had something to do with the fact that you were free-hanging off the side of a 600-foot stone tower." They all laughed, and Elena handed Sammy a couple of pills. 

"No beer for you," Nathan said, handing him the one water on the table with a laugh, and Sammy grinned and took a swig, sending the pills down his throat.


	14. Chapter 14

"So how'd you manage to get a boat?" Sam asked; they were still sitting around the table after a few more minutes of chatter, mostly excited things about the escape, and now Sammy's big brothers were moving on to logistics. Their giddiness and questions were coming rapid-fire, since they had so many and since neither of them had lost the thrill of escaping prison. "What happened to the cell phone Sister Catherine gave you?" Sam asked. "When did you leave the orphanage?" Nathan asked. 

Elena chuckled, watching them, and held up her hands, rolling her eyes good-naturedly. "Guys! One at a time! You're gonna wear your newfound baby brother OUT!" 

Sammy laughed with them, still wearing his crooked half-smile-smirk. Nate and Sam both had immediately recognized it as the signature Sammy smile from all those years ago, and it made their hearts warm. 

There was silence for a second, then Nate seemed to decide to go for questions tomorrow and comfy happiness tonight. "Hey Sam," he said the greeting so casually, that Sammy knew he'd been saying it that way for years, and he felt a twinge of envy at the thought. They'd had so much more time together...they might have been in prison, but they weren't alone. Even Tommy and Robby had had each other, although he stamped the thought of them down quick. 

"Sully says he looks like us." 

"Oh yeah? Let me see!" Sam tilted Sammy's head towards him, holding his chin firmly but gently, and whistled low. "You're a good-looking kid, little brother." Sammy gave a little chuckle, unsure how else to respond. 

"He's got longer eyelashes than me," Elena laughed. 

Sam beamed with pride. "SHIT, I can't believe how big you've gotten! And check out these muscles!" He rubbed Sammy's neck affectionately again. 

"Right?!" Nathan said. "That's what I was saying! You're gonna make us look bad by comparison," he laughed. 

"Hey, where's your hair?" Sam asked, rubbing Sammy's buzz-cut. Sammy laughed, since the answer was so obvious. "Cut it." 

"It looks good," he said, sounding impressed. "And no offense to our lovely brother Nathan here or myself, but I don't think we could pull it off."

"Nah, I'm sure you'd look wonderful," Sully said sarcastically, miffed about being on the ottoman. "Real belle of the ball." 

Sam cut his eyes at him for a second. Elena, noticing Sully's discomfort, stood up. "Here, let's switch," she said laughingly, and he moved with an appreciate groan to do so. "Being tossed aside by this asshole," he muttered, although it was still fairly light-hearted, and Sam put out his free hand defensively, his voice relaxed but sassy. "Hey, I haven't seen my baby brother in seven years, all right, Victor," he retorted. "I'm sitting next to him."

"Yeah, yeah," Sully muttered, but he winked at Sammy so they could all see that he was kidding. Sammy smiled back, a big genuine one, and let out a little laugh that was so like his expression and laughter from childhood that Sam and Nathan stared at him. 

"God, you're like exactly the same," Sam said quietly. "Except bigger," Nathan laughed, his own voice a little emotional. 

"So are you," Sammy said, and they all laughed for a second, squeezing tighter. Sam's body touched Sammy's arm a little at that, even though he was being careful and trying to keep a gap between them, and Sammy's breath hitched. It was just a tiny bit, under the sound of their happy and relieved laughter, but Sam and Nathan and Elena heard it all the same. 

"Arm still hurt?" Sam asked, letting go and leaning back to look at Sammy, but keeping his hand on his back. Nathan stopped laughing. Sammy shrugged with his crooked smirk again. "Only a little. Medicine's helping, though." 

He thought he was playing it off rather well, even though his arm was still really really throbbing, but Sam clearly didn't buy it. Sammy felt his heart race a little, nervous to have this particular injury investigated in front of other people--or ever, really, although he wasn't stupid and knew he'd have to at least mention it at some point--, but he reminded himself that he'd been longing for this kind of concerned and protective brotherly love since the moment they'd stepped off the orphanage roof and gone away from him. 

"We should get some rest, I guess," Nathan said reluctantly, as his eyes met Sam's in a communicative glance over Sammy's head. "You probably haven't slept in a while, have you, Sammy?" He shook him very very gently with a little squeeze. Sammy gave a half-shrug. "Nope," he laughed ruefully, keeping a tiny smile. 

"It's almost dawn, and you've all had quite a night," Sully said, finishing a cigar. "Elena and I'll come back with breakfast in a few hours. We're just next door. You three," he gestured, faux-sternly, at the three of them, cigar in hand "get some sleep! Plenty of time for questions in the morning." 

"Yeah, yeah," Nate said, stretching. It was the first time he'd stopped touching Sammy in fifteen minutes, and now it felt like there was an absence in the air there. "Pretty sure this'll be the best sleep any of us have had in a long, long time, too." 

They ended up sharing a bed, Nathan pig-piling Sammy first--but very consciously avoiding his arm--on the bed and Sam only taking a moment before saying "oh what the hell" and hopping in beside them. Seven years was a long, long time to be without your brothers, and the three of them slept in the big bed like babies. Nathan was right; it was the best sleep they'd had since that time was Sammy was sick, all those months and months and months ago in the past.


	15. Chapter 15

The next morning Sammy woke up to his arm absolutely throbbing, a vague tilt of sunlight coming through the almost-entirely-closed curtains, and the wondrous sensation of feeling the weight of his brothers and their arms around him, feeling their bodies lift with his while they were all breathing. He shifted in the bed slightly, trying to savor the experience, and decided he never wanted it to end. He'd finally done it; he finally had them back--

"You cold?" He heard Sam's murmur above his ear on his right, and looked up a little with his head. "Hm?"

"You're shaking. Here," Sam pulled some blankets closer and shuffled his body inwards towards Sammy and the center of the bed , enveloping Sammy in his bigger arms and torso and shoulders. Sammy felt Nathan stir on the other side of him, against his back and side, and mutter "S'matter?"

"Sammy's cold," Sam murmured, but he sounded happy. He could still barely believe that he was holding his baby brother, right here, right now, and that they were all free.

Nathan was feeling the same tenderness and giddiness and quasi-disbelief, and quickly moved in to snuggle Sammy on the other side as well. "Oh, there you go, Sammy," he said, sounding so similar to how he used to when they shared their bed in the orphanage that Sammy suddenly wanted to cry from relief. Nathan had always used to make sure that Sammy wasn't too cold, or hot, or that his nightmares weren't happening.

It wasn't one of the nightmares that had him shivering today, thankfully, Sammy thought. For once his brain was too happy to think of the bad things. Instead, it had been the pain from his arm waking him up and making him shake. Sam had felt the minor convulsions, automatic from the pain, in his little brother's body and assumed it was from being cold. Sammy didn't want to correct him, not while they were in this happy place--but he could no longer deny that if his arm didn't stop rebelling soon, he'd HAVE to tell them, because the symptoms would be unavoidable. He didn't even feel like he could lift it to move the sheets closer around him.

Seeing through his closed-but-now-opening-a-little-more eyes that Sammy hadn't fixed the sheets to cover him entirely, Nathan lifted the blankets to do it for him--and distinctly felt Sammy shudder at the contact of the blankets against his left arm. Worried, Nathan straightened, but before he could check in with his brother the front door opened after a tiny tap of a knock. He and Sam both looked up, alert and nervous, but relaxed instantly when they saw that it was Sully and Elena.

"Everybody awake?" Sully asked good-naturedly and loudly--Sammy got the feeling he did everything pretty loudly, since the man had the rumbled roar of a lion--while Elena said "Good morning" in a cheerful, but far less disruptive voice.

"It IS a good morning," Sam said, gently moving around Sammy to stretch his arms over his head and sit up. His brothers did the same, and Sammy very carefully rolled himself upright, avoiding his arm. Nathan didn't miss it for a second.

"Hey, Elena, give Sammy here some more of those meds, will you?" he asked as she leaned across the bed to hand Sam a bag of breakfast food. Sam's stomach grumbled audibly, and Sammy laughed, trying to avoid Nate and Elena's attention and keep Sam in a separate conversation. "You hungry, Sam?" he asked, and Sam chuckled low and rubbed his baby brother's head with his left hand while he opened the bag with his right. "Yes. I. Am., little brother," he said good-naturedly. His face got serious when he heard the end of Nate's sentence, since they'd been speaking at the same time, and everybody looked down at Sammy immediately.

"Your arm's still hurting?"

Sammy gave a half-shrug with his good one. "Yeah, a little." Neither Sam nor Nathan looked even a little bit more relaxed at that statement. Elena was already reaching into her bag for the medication.

"That was your first real climb, right kid?" Sully asked, sitting down at the table with a cigar. He was a perceptive man, and had sensed Sammy's discomfort with the subject; unlike the others, he was content to show some mercy and help change the subject--for now.

Sammy nodded ruefully. "Yeah."

"Hell of a first climb," he said, sounding impressed, and Sammy gave him a little smile as Elena handed him the pills and a water. As he swallowed them, Sam started passing out the breakfast sandwiches, and all three of their stomachs growled, making everyone laugh.

"Well, I did fall at the end," Sammy admitted sheepishly.

"How far?"

Sammy thought about it for a second. "Like, forty or fifty feet." He spoke over the rustling and shuffling of the food wrappers on both sides of him.

Sully whistled low. "Well, there you go. Hell of a first fall, too. Right on track to catch up with these two." He gestured at the others, who were being quiet next to him. Sammy assumed they were preparing to take bites, and stayed focused on Sully, but then Nathan spoke quietly, and with a strange voice--deceptively casual, or something. Careful. It was not like Nathan at all.

"Did you fall on your arm?"

Sammy had thought he was getting off this topic, and the shift back threw him enough that his discomfort showed on his face for a second. It must've, because he could feel Sam straighten and stiffen on his other side, puffing up a little protectively.

"I don't think so...but I mean, I fell on everything," he said, and fortunately Sully and Elena laughed, defusing the tension once again.

Tired of the questions, Sammy decided to ask some of his own. "Have you guys been in prison this whole time?"

Sam swallowed a piece of food that he'd been chewing thoughtfully, eager to respond quickly and explain their side of the story. "No. So here's what happened," he turned, still sitting, to be facing Sammy now, and Nathan did the same, still eating and content to let Sam tell the tale. "Remember how we were going to get Mom's stuff back?"

Remember? Sammy had thought about it every second of every day for years. A little wave of something rose inside of him, but he clamped it down and just nodded tightly.

"Well, we did. But the thing is, the old lady whose house we broke into? Turns out she was Mom's boss, an archaeologist. And she told us about this special passion of Mom's, this theory about Sir Francis Drake faking his death and secretly having heirs—turns out, Drake’s our last name because she picked it, so we could ‘be his heirs’!—and then she told us about Mom's final big treasure hunt, for the treasure of Henry Avery from the Gunsway. But then she had a heart attack and died, right there in front of us-"

"and she'd already called the cops before she knew who we were--" Nathan interjected, deciding to chip in

"So we had no choice but to bolt. And now we were both wanted kids, or--one kid and one man--and all we could do was some forged papers. Only the guy I got to help us...he had us under his thumb. Wouldn't give us EVERYTHING we needed unless we did some stuff for him. Victor was under this guy's thumb, too," Sam said, gesturing at Sully, who nodded grimly, "and we all had to work together on a job in Colombia. He kept doing that to us, Sammy; we kept trying to get back to you, to at least CALL or somethin', but he had us on a crazy tight leash. When we did try, we usually got beaten. Then after five years or so of that shit, the guy snooped through Nathan and I's stuff, and read about the Avery treasure, and sent us here to Panama where the next clue was. Rafe Adler, whom you've met--nice guy, right?" he said sarcastically, recovering from the disturbed look he'd had on his face, and Sammy nodded in glum agreement with a grim smile "he was working on the job with us, only it went bad. He killed a guard, who was bribed to be on our side and get us into the old prison's ruins, and we had to escape. Rafe got out; we didn't. I got shot," he gestured at his torso, "Nathan and a "doctor" healed me, and we were stuck. We only suckered up to them enough to get visitation rights last month; escapees and guard-killers take a way longer time to forgive."

"Why didn't Rafe get you out?" Sammy asked, already knowing the answer.

"Because he's a selfish asshole," Nathan said. "We'd found the next clue, a Saint Dismas cross pointing to the Scottish cathedral, before the breakout. So Rafe had that, and decided to just cut everybody else out of the hunt."

"Well, at least he let me find you." Sammy sighed.

"Yeah. That actually WAS really cool of him," Sam murmured, taking another bite of food. "'Course-" he said around the egg wrap "he's also the one who LEFT us in there, so..."

"Still an asshole." Sully grumbled.

"Do we have to worry about the guy who kept you hostage?" Sammy asked, worried.

Sully shook his head. "No. Sorry boys," he said to Sam and Nathan. "We didn't get to kill him ourselves. He died in a shootout in Argentina six months ago. And believe me, I double- and triple-checked."

"Goddamnit," Sam swore under his breath vindictively, and Nate sighed bitterly. “Would’ve really liked to do that ourselves. AND show him the little brother that he kept us away from for seven years.” He rubbed Sammy’s neck again absently, staring down at the bedspread and clearly trying to bolster his own spirits back up. Nate looked sadder than he did mad, but shifted uncomfortably on the bed.

“By the way, boys, I did a little digging as soon as I knew you were on your way out. Rafe’s on the move again, this time to Italy. There’s an auction happening at the Rossi estate and this bad boy—“ he held up a grainy photo of a cross, and Nate leaned forward to take it and show it to Sam, their eyes widening—“is the INTACT and EXACT replica of your broken Panamanian one. So-“ Sam started chuckling as Sully continued – “if we wanna stop Rafe, and even get ahead of him, we’ve still got a chance.”

“Oh, hell yes,” Sam said, grinning deviously. “When is it?”

“Six days. But Rafe likes to party, so he’ll be there earlier just to fuck around and buy his fancy hair gel.” They both laughed, but Nate was being quiet, his mind still on Sammy’s arm.

“Was Rafe nice to you?” Nathan asked abruptly. Sammy glanced at him, surprised, and took another bite of food. “Yeah, he was fine. I mean, he wasn’t NICE, but he was okay. And he was REALLY surprised to see me.” Sam and Nathan chuckled at that. “I’ll bet he was,” Nathan said with a smirk.

“That lady, Nadine, was she your source?” Sammy looked at Sully now. “I mean, she was the only other one there—“

Sully raised an eyebrow. “Not much gets past you, kiddo. Yeah, that’s Nadine Ross.” He said her name like she was somebody special, somebody to contend with, and Sammy wasn’t surprised. He WAS surprised, however, that Sully sounded like he didn’t like her. He’d assumed a source would be a friend.

“Runs the South African mercenary army called Shoreline. You run into them up there?”

Sammy nodded, and Sam frowned. “They hurt you?”

Sammy shook his head no. “No, I wasn’t armed or anything, and I’m a kid, and since I was speaking Xhosa they decided they liked me. Plus they seemed really bored, so--”

“You speak Xhosa?” Nate asked, surprised. Sammy shrugged. “Languages come kind of easy to me, I guess.”

“How many others do you know?” Sam asked, impressed. Sammy thought about it, pleased that he was impressing his brothers. “Uh, I think I’m up to…like…twenty-six now. No, thirty. Yeah, thirty.” He said decidedly. Sam and Nathan gaped.

“You speak THIRTY languages.” Sam said skeptically. Sammy looked up at him, and his cheerfully alert, worshipful little-boy expression was so much like his toddler one that Sam almost cried.

“Holy shit,” Nathan said, grinning. He rubbed Sammy’s neck proudly. “I guess we’ve gotta be careful; you really ARE making us look bad!”

“How’d you learn so many?’ Elena asked, leaning forward from her chair, interested.

Sammy shrugged. “I had a lot of time.”

He immediately regretted that sentence, since he could tell that it would bring Nathan back to question-mode—and since he could hear a little thread of…something…in his own voice. It was just for a second, but it was tight and potent and…bitter. It went away quickly, but not before Sam and Nathan heard it. Sam swallowed hard, and Nathan’s eyes narrowed slightly in concern, but they both decided to let it be for now. Especially since they had company.

Sammy’s arm was feeling better now, and he started eating with both hands—although his left one took only a little of the food’s weight, the fingers holding on tremulously. Nathan still took that as a good sign, though, since it meant that he was feeling well enough and brave enough to actually use it.  
The pain felt distant now, and Sammy’s smile grew to actually just be a big, happy, contented one on his face as he ate.

“You know, for a kid with so much muscle, you’re still kind of skinny,” Sam said. He knocked Sammy’s right arm lightly. “Keep eating. We’ve gotta fatten you up, little brother.”

Sammy was too busy eating, but responded with his genuine smile around the food.


	16. Chapter 16

Another bag of food and three showers later, each and every Drake brother was feeling supremely content and excited. Sammy had had enough of questions for the morning, and he knew Nathan could tell. (Nathan hadn’t forgotten about his conclusion that something must have happened to provoke Sammy into leaving the orphanage for them, and he was worried. He didn’t want to ask Sammy in front of everyone else any more than he knew Sam did, and he also knew Sammy really didn’t want to be asked. But that arm was worrying him…he just KNEW there was something there… and he couldn’t forget that little vein of bitterness in his younger brother’s voice.)

Nathan’s decision to be merciful and avoid the harder questions was a big relief to Sammy, and it was obvious as his smile grew bigger and bigger amidst the lively banter of the late morning. Elena had brought new clothes and supplies, and they were all packing their duffels—Nathan and Sam both constantly keeping Sammy in their sight and lifting things for him to save his arm. “All right, when are we gettin’ out of here, Sullivan?” Sam asked—Sammy had noticed that he never called Sully ‘Sully’, unlike Nathan, and figured there was a bit of hostility there—

“I checked with a contact. The heat is definitely on for you boys in Panama,” he rumbled back, holding his cigar lightly and waving it. “But as far as I know, we should be good to head out from here. They won’t expect a deluxe private flight, after all. My plane’s ready to go and fueled. Only question is, where to?” 

There was silence for a moment as Sam and Nathan looked at each other, then down at Sammy. He could see from their faces what they wanted to do, but knew that worry about him was keeping them from saying it—but he wanted to go, with them, anywhere. They’d finally have an adventure together. To hell with his arm. 

“Italy, right?” he said, and Sam and Nathan’s shoulders sagged in relief, try as they might to hide their enthusiasm. They were itching to go after Avery’s treasure, and he’d just given them permission. “Rafe’ll be happy to see me again,” he added with a mischievous smirk. Nate laughed. “Yeah, us too. Let’s go pay him a visit.” 

Sully went to get the car, a mutely-colored sedan, so that they could be hustled into it as quickly as possible. “Best hotel ever”, Nathan proclaimed ceremoniously before they left, and everybody laughed. Sammy moved to pick up his bag, but Sam weaved past him like a dancer. “Ohhhhhh no you don’t. Nope, little brother,” Sam said with a grunt, heading Sammy off again and lifting his duffel onto his muscular shoulder to carry both. “No lifting for you.” He ruffled Sammy’s head as he walked by to go outside, and Sammy responded with a grateful smile. Nathan was behind him, and paused his younger brother’s exit before they made it out the door. They were the only two there now, and Nathan put a hand on Sammy’s shoulder. “You sure you’re okay?” 

“Yeah,” Sammy said, thrown by the unabashed concern and sadness in his brother’s eyes. For some reason, he really couldn’t lie or even TRY to lie to Nathan, and he could hear that his voice was a little higher and more fragile at the question. It was Nathan who had seen all his nightmares; it was Nathan who had seen him cry quietly sometimes after Sam left, and had held him and murmured encouraging things. And it was Sammy who had also seen and done all the same for Nathan, and who had iced his bruises from fights and cheered him up when he missed Sam and felt left out. 

Seeing that Nathan’s expression didn’t change, and that he refused to move his hand, Sammy conceded with a little rueful shrug and a sad quarter-of-a-smile. “I’ll be okay, Nathan,” he said quietly, and Nathan sighed worriedly and squeezed his shoulder tighter for a second before pointing a finger at him firmly and shifting gears. “You start to feel worse, you TELL me, okay? I mean it.” He’d deliberately avoided saying ‘us’ or ‘me and Sam’ because he knew, as another younger brother, that telling your biggest brother about a weakness could be harder to do. Sammy would want to stay strong for Sam, he knew that, and he figured it’d be best for now if Sammy felt like he could tell him things and keep it a secret. 

Plus, Sam was wicked excited to find Avery’s treasure, and there was no way either of them wanted to dampen his glee. 

“Okay,” Sammy relented, but Nathan’s expression was fiercely firm. “I’m serious, Sammy. Don’t try to be a goddamn gladiator. You don’t have to be, not even a little bit. And even a PAPER CUT, I want to know about it.”

“Okay.” Something in his quiet response must have convinced Nathan, because he finally let him go. “You’ll tell me?”

“Yeah,” Sammy said as they headed out, looking back at Nate for a second. He did mean it, kind of…but he knew he wouldn’t tell unless Nate kept actively asking. They were finally together; no way was he going to put a damper on that willingly.

Fortunately, Nathan already knew what his brother was thinking. He hadn’t forgotten about Sammy’s tendency to suffer in silence, or his tendency to run himself into the ground for other people, and he strongly doubted that either had gone away since childhood. Nathan had missed Sammy’s illness once, when he’d had that infection, and he had no intention of it ever happening again. He would take care of Sammy, even if Sammy put up a fight (or, his politely resistant VERSION of a fight). 

Outside, Sam was helping Sullivan heave the bags into the car, but he didn’t get in until he saw his brothers approach. "God, this is great," he said, his eyes missing nothing from his brothers' interaction but his face and voice deliberately staying sardonically goofy and light-hearted. Let Nathan be the hard-hitter on this one today, he'd thought. He'd check in later. "Come on, baby brothers; we got a treasure to find and an asshole to beat."

As they got in the car, Elena taking shotgun and Sully taking the wheel, Nathan said "You know, technically I'm not a baby." 

"Same difference; you're both baby brothers," Sam said with a smirk, gripping both their necks in an affectionate and joking shake for a second. "Sammy, you want the middle?" 

Sammy shrugged. He'd figured he'd get the middle anyway, since he was by far the smallest. "Sure." 

They buckled in (with Sam very carefully bracing his well-muscled arms to avoid accidentally being moved into his little brother's left arm), Elena plugging the discreetly-placed tarmac's coordinates into a GPS, and Sully started the car with a rumble. "Italy, here we come."


	17. Chapter 17

It had taken one long flight (sans Elena, who had cheerfully said goodbye at the tarmac)--during which Sully had wisely sat elsewhere, and all three brothers had napped, eaten, flirted with waitresses (except for Sammy), and joked around, but they were finally in Italy. Sammy didn't even care, really, how long the travel time was; this felt like a field trip, or the best kind of vacation. He was so excited that he hadn't even noticed that his arm was still hurting. Or, almost hadn't noticed. 

Now the three Drake brothers were nestled in some beautiful Italian hillsides, Sam up a little higher on a tiny cliff with binoculars and Nathan and Sammy sitting down below. 

"See anything yet?" Nathan asked, his own eyes looking down at the blueprint. Sammy alternated between staring at the Rossi estate's beautiful vista, and looking between his brothers excitedly. 

"Just a bunch of high-class, low-life criminals all cleaned up for prom," Sam replied sardonically, but Sammy could tell he was in good spirits. It was true. After all, how could he not be?, Sam thought. He was out of prison, on fresh tracks to Avery's treasure, and he had BOTH of his baby brothers with him. 

Nevertheless, there was one thing that irked him, and he couldn't help letting it out. "And still no sign from Sullivan yet," he muttered, raising a skeptical eyebrow towards Nathan.

"Eh, there's still time." Nathan brushed off his brother's concern, knowing that a large portion stemmed from his long-standing tension with the older man. "Looks like the storage room's in the building behind the manor. Can you see it from up there?"

"Just the very top of it. Ooh, I wonder what they got tucked away in there." Sam smirked, and winked at Sammy when he saw him look up at him with a laugh. 

"Let's just focus on Avery's cross," Nate said, sighing good-naturedly and rolling his eyes.

"I don't know. You sure...?" Sam said at the same time as Sammy--his arm feeling good today, and his energy back up from good food and sleep--stood up to stretch and said "Those are some really nice cars..."

"Wha--Sammy?!" Nate gaped at Sammy, grinning, in surprise. "You want to steal a car. Really."

"I've never been more proud." Sam chuckled for a second up above them.

Sammy was smiling, but shrugged. "What? They're nice cars!"

Nate and Sam both laughed for a second as Nate stood up. "Sorry, buddy. But hey, we get this cross and you can buy all the Ferrarris you want."

"It'd be a Lamborghini," Sammy murmured cheerfully, sighing with only mild disappointment. 

"Hey! Good taste." Sam said from above, and Nate laughed again before ruefully saying "Sorry, Sammy! Today, let's keep it simple."

"Right. Simple." Sam jumped down to join them, ruffling Sammy's hair as he landed and stepping towards Nathan. "It'd be a whole lot simpler if it was just the three of us."

"Sam..."

"We could be inside already!"

"Yeah, not cleanly."

"Have you even thought about a back-up plan in case Sullivan gets cold feet?"

"NO, because he WON'T." Nate sat down again to 'retie his shoe', a move he only did when he was trying to recollect his thoughts or was feeling nervous about something. Sammy already knew that Sam didn't really like Victor; it didn't take a genius to notice that. But he was a little surprised to see the distrust in action, nonetheless.

"Or if he got caught?"

"Sam, he knows the people running the auction. He's gonna schmooze his way right through that party, get upstairs, unlock the window, and we're in. It's a solid plan."

"Uh-huh." Sam looked out towards the estate, tapping the binoculars in his hands with unease.

Nate sighed in a long-suffering way and gestured towards Sam, while Sammy stepped over to sit beside his second-oldest brother, moving his gaze away from the Lamborghini that was still down in the lot. "All right, fine. Go ahead, say it."

Sam's sentence burst forth the moment Nathan gave him permission, and his hands flew in the air as he spoke. "What if he stole the cross for himself!

"Not in a million years."

"Victor Sullivan? The same Victor we're talking about, right?" Sam's accent got thicker as he got exasperated, and Sammy looked between his brothers, mildly concerned. 

"Yes, he's double-crossed people in the past. But not us," Nate responded calmly.

Sam pointed at Nathan. "No, not YOU."

Nate stood up to get closer to his big brother, still speaking calmly in the face of Sam's stress. "I know you two have never seen eye to eye--"

"Huge understatement."

"But I trust him, all right? I just need you to trust him too." He looked at Sam entreatingly, and Sam sighed before grumbling, with a shrug: "Fine. Fine."

"He'll come through for us." Nate took the binoculars from Sam's hands and started looking at the estate, but not before both brothers heard him murmur "...Eventually." 

Sam groaned, unable to contain his skepticism, and grabbed Nate's arm to turn him back around. "But come on, you have to at least just for one second consider the possiblity--"

"There." Nate abruptly pointed, seeing something in the binoculars before Sam could fully rotate his body. He handed the binoculars over, and Sam looked for a second before lowering them with a grudging look on his face. "See?" Nathan said cheerily, bumping his brother's arm affectionately. "Trust." 

Sam looked at him grumpily, reluctantly admitting defeat, before looking his brother over and abruptly reaching to zip up his jumpsuit. Nathan jumped back a little, surprised at the gesture, while Sam zipped his little brother's suit up and finished with a pat. "Just try to keep your tux clean." 

"Thanks," Nate said with a knowing grin while turning to follow him. "But I don't know WHAT you're referring to. I always leave jobs in immaculate shape."

Sam and Sammy both laughed at that one. "Yeah," Sam said caustically, "Tell me that again AFTER we get out." 

All three chuckled at that. Sammy was still sitting down, having watched the exchange, and both brothers turned to him before they left. 

"Okay Sammy, DON'T steal that car." Nate was trying to be firm, but he couldn't keep a smile from forming, and neither could Sam. "Here's your earpiece. Ours won't work with yours, but you can talk to Sully." He handed Sammy a tiny little black piece, and Sammy took it delicately. Nate's eyes were fixed on his face. "And you're gonna stay PUT, right?"

Sammy looked between his two brothers amicably and nodded with a small, accepting smile. Nate didn't look like he believed him, and Sammy let out a little laugh. "I WILL, Nathan."

Sam hit Nathan's arm with the back of his hand lightly, already poised to step into the forest. As they started to walk away, he pointed to Sammy affectionately. "You got a book or somethin'? We might be a while." 

Sammy grinned and held up a book on Italian, and watched his two brothers smile and wave before they headed in. "Good luck."


	18. Chapter 18

For a while Sammy watched his brothers; they'd gone out of sight, taking a roundabout route to get under the cliffside that encapsulated the estate, but after only a few minutes they'd been back in his line of vision, swinging on ropes and climbing like monkeys. Sammy felt that twinge of...something again as he watched them go. This time it was also followed quickly by panic, and he had to stand up and start pacing, hands on his thin hips, breathing deeply, to calm down. 

They're not gonna leave you again, Sammy, he started muttering to himself over and over again as he paced, they're not gonna leave you again-- they're NOT--

"Sammy?" A rough, rumbled voice came into his ear, and he jumped with an undignified yelp. 

He heard Sully laugh on the other end of the connection, and heaved his shoulders down in relief--more from having a distraction than from being surprised. It wasn't creepy out here alone; it was a beautiful, sunny Italian day, after all. He'd be willing to bet that it would be after dark, though. 

"Sorry I scared ya, kid." Sully's voice was already calming Sammy down. "You ok?"

"Yeah," Sammy said, laughing a little too and pacing more casually now.

"You sure? You sound stressed out."

"Nope, I'm good," Sammy was quick to reply, once again finding it disturbing and disconcerting that his efforts to conceal his feelings no longer seemed to work. Why was everybody so goddamn perceptive?

"Are your brothers still there, or are they on their way for our date?" 

Sammy laughed at that. "No, they're coming. I just lost sight of them, actually." 

"Okay. I'm all set to let them in the window. One helluva fancy party in here," he added, sounding amused. 

Sammy perked up. "Like how fancy?" 

"Ah, I don't wanna make you jealous, kid." 

"Come on," Sammy wheedled, desperate for a distraction and still trying to salvage his good mood. "I've never been to a fancy party before. I've never been to ANYTHING fancy before." 

Sully laughed. "Okay. Well, there's LOTS of really pretty people, because only attractive people are usually invited to these things--aside from a few REALLY rich uglies that they HAVE to invite--and although the ballroom's beautiful they've unfortunately decided to go with douchey European techno music. There's these fancy ice sculptures, and lots of well-dressed waiters serving this stuff called antipasti..."

Sully was kind enough to regale Sammy with tales for the next ten minutes or so, with Sammy popping in occasional questions here and there, before he said "Whoop-the boys are here, Sammy. I'll talk to you in a few. You still okay out there?"

"Yeah," Sammy said, relieved that they'd made the climb. "Thanks. Good luck." 

"You too, boy-o. You too." Sully removed the earpiece, standing up to greet the Drakes again, while Sammy sat down on a log and tried to study Italian and tried not to think. If he thought, that voice in his head was gonna start him pacing again. 

"Hey Sully," Nate said, hopping in from the window, "Long time no see!" 

Sully chuckled. "I know, I know, I haven't aged a day." 

"Did you check in with Sammy?" Sam asked, straightening his tuxedo cuffs. Sully nodded. "Yep. He's fine. I told him a little bit about the party, since he's never been to one and wanted to know." 

"Heh, if this is the first party he's hearing about then every other party's gonna be a huge let-down," Nate laughed, patting Sully on the back as they all headed further inside. "Let's go get that cross."


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had a similar experience with a fox recently, although without its kits. When you hear that scream out at night though in the dark, you almost pass out. My friends and I have never run so fast! 
> 
> So yeah. Hence the random unexpected twist in this chapter. Hope you enjoy it all the same!

The sun had gone down rapidly only half an hour after the heist had started--so Sammy had been alone for about an hour when it got officially dark. 

He tried to content himself with brushing up on his Italian, but that didn't work. And something kept rustling in the bushes just behind him, making him more than a little uneasy. 

"Sammy, you good?" Sully asked. He'd been checking in every fifteen minutes or so, unable to talk longer since he was out in the open. Sammy had overheard a conversation he'd had with Nadine, and with Rafe, and had grinned subconsciously, imagining how Rafe would react if he knew that the unassuming, begging boy he'd met was literally in Sullivan's ear helping to rob him. 

Not that he had much of a role--or in fact any role, really. But Sammy didn't mind; he'd like to be with his brothers, not out here by himself, but he didn't necessarily need to be in on the actual action. Not since his arm still hurt. 

"Yeah, I'm fine." 

Since Sully had two earpieces in--one for the older brothers, and one for the youngest--Sam and Nathan could hear his end of the conversation, but not Sammy's. "You sure? You sound nervous again." 

Goddamn it, was this man a wizard? Sammy thought in exasperation. He thought he'd sounded fine--

"No I'm good, there's just an animal or something behind me that keeps freaking me out, that's all." 

"Animal? What kind of animal?" 

"Well I don't KNOW Sully, that's why I didn't say what it was!" Sammy kept his voice jocular, relieved to be talking to someone. The night was beautiful, but the forest was a little creepy. 

"Sully, what the hell is going on?" Nathan asked over comms. He and Sam were working the job in separate locations, with Nathan climbing to the power room and Sam masquerading as a waiter, so Nathan sounded out of breath while Sam stayed frustrated but quiet. "Is something bothering Sammy? What animal?"

"Sammy, go poke it with a stick and see what happens." Sully was only partly joking. 

"Sammy, DON'T poke it with a stick," Nate snapped, loud enough that Sully winced and Sammy could faintly hear him. "Sully, you're a bad influence." 

There was silence for a moment, then Sammy spoke. 

"I'll poke it with a stick." 

Sully barely held in his chuckle, and Nate said "No! Stop that Sammy--goddamnit-" 

There was a rustle, then a loud raspy sound, a sort of scream that made Sammy jump a foot in the air. It sounded close--then, after just two seconds, it sounded VERY close. Sammy saw its eyes glowing in the dark, and froze. He was pretty sure he couldn't even feel his heart beating. 

"Sammy? Sammy! Goddamn it Sully why'd you tell him to poke it--" 

"Sammy? Crap, boys, he's not answering--"

"Victor, what the fuck is going on..." Sam muttered between his teeth in a low singsong, tense enough to break into the conversation. 

"Sammy!" 

Sammy was too busy staying still to answer; the great cat was looking right at him, and he knew exactly what it was. Its shadow was hazy, but clearer as his eyes adjusted to the lack of light, and neither of them moved for a full sixty seconds. Then the cat sank into the shadows, and a shift in the clouds revealed what had been rustling--a cub, small and fluffy, now hanging in it's mother's mouth. Sammy would've thought it was cute if he was capable of anything other than trembling. 

A full five and a half minutes passed, with Sully alternating between calling for Sammy and swearing, the others listening anxiously, before Sammy was capable of speaking again. 

"S-sully?" He said slowly, and Sullivan responded immediately.

"Jesus CHRIST, kid, you almost gave us a goddamn heart attack! What the hell happened?" 

Nathan and Sam both breathed sighs of relief at their own locations, and Sam muttered "Shit, man, I was starting to sweat bullets..." 

"It's okay now, but Sully...do they have...m-mountain lions in Italy?" 

"You kiddin' me?" Sully asked skeptically, covering his hand with his cigar but still almost breaking his cover. "No, they don't, Sammy--goddamnit never MIND poking it with a stick--forget I said that!" 

"Sully, I'm gonna kill you" Nathan groaned, still unable to hear Sammy's part since he was speaking quietly. 

"That makes two of us" muttered Sam. 

"Yeah, see, S-sully, that question was kind of rhetorical--" 

"Wha--holy shit Sammy, you saw one? Is it still there? Did it hurt you?" 

"No, no--but it's got babies-" 

"Shit." Victor swore viciously, and took a swig from his Scotch. "So you're good for now? It's gone?"

"Yeah I--I guess--" 

"Phew. Son of a bitch. Boys, he's okay," he said to Nathan and Sam. "Still going as planned. But you're never gonna believe what he just saw."


	20. Chapter 20

Having -- sort of -- recovered from meeting the lion, Sammy was huddling nervously on the edge of the cliff, waiting anxiously for any news and routinely checking behind him for any cats. It had been several minutes now, and he knew that Sully and Rafe were in some kind of bidding war for the cross to buy Nathan some time to cut the power, but all he was hearing was the faint tinny sound of the auctioneer's polished voice. With so many eyes on him, Sully wasn't risking any conversation, so Sammy was in the dark. 

And literally in the dark, too, since he couldn't risk using a light and attracting attention to himself. But soon the auctioneer's voice stopped, and there was silence for a moment--then the estate lit up like a beacon. Guards started appearing, their flashlights waving back and forth all over the main entrance and in windows, then gradually on the rooftops. Sammy watched it happen; it was like a swarm of insects had been released and was rapidly spreading outwards. 

Sully apparently saw the similarity, too, because Sammy heard him say "We really kicked the hornet's nest down here. Ballroom's locked down, security's scrambling." 

Sammy assumed he was talking to his brothers because there was a beat before Sully said "Come to the ballroom exit. Just follow the spotlights." 

Another beat, then "Sammy, you good?" 

"Yeah," he said, his voice sounding disturbingly loud in the night, "I'm good." 

"Okay. Sit tight; your brothers are on their way out with the cross, then we'll head over for you. Might be a few minutes; don't get too worried. The lion still there?" 

"Wha--holy shit, a LION?" Sam exclaimed as he ran through hallways, literally stopping for a second in surprise. Nate almost fell off his handhold. 

"Mountain lion," Sully clarified, "Sammy's fine but it freaked him out a little bit." 

"Well, YEAH!" Nate said in a 'duh' tone of voice. "Since when are mountain lions even IN Italy? It didn't bite him did it?" 

"No. But the sooner we get outta here the better. It's got babies. Just our fuckin' luck." 

"Jesus Christ," Sam muttered, both him and Nathan climbing in different parts of the estate, "Of all the crazy things--like, what are the fuckin' ODDS--"

"Shit. Wait, wait don't shoot at me! I'm lost! Ah hell--" Nathan yelled, gunfire sounding like popcorn popping over the comms.

"Nathan, what is going on?!" Sam asked.

"I'm being shot at," Nate gasped.

"Told ya, we should've brought guns!" 

"I KNOW!"

Sammy, standing in tense silence--sitting felt wrong, too relaxed, too comfortable and vulnerable--missed all of this. He also missed hearing Nate's fight with Nadine (a particularly memorable one, since Nadine had NOT expected the Drake brothers to show up any more than Rafe had), and hearing Sam and Nate's shootout with the guards while Nate was literally hanging off a broken sign. After almost ten minutes of silence, Sammy's "peace and quiet" was broken--but this time by a voice, right BEHIND him. And this time it was no cat. 

"Là! Abbiamo qualcuno qui!" (There! We've got somebody over here!) 

The sound of an Italian man's shout, closer than expected, was enough to get Sammy moving; the sensation of bullets punching the air over his head was enough to make him jolt and send him PACKING. 

"Nate, you're STILL being shot at?! Try being stealthy once in a while!" Sully exclaimed, bringing the car around. 

Nate fired back in a low voice, "I'm NOT being shot at, Sully! Thank you very much--" 

"Sam, you?" Sully's concern was obvious in his voice. 

"Not right this second," Sam panted. 

It took Sully only a moment to realize which earpiece the popping was coming from. "GodDAMN it, they're shooting at Sammy!" 

"What? Oh SHIT--" Nathan lost his grip and fell to another ledge with a loud grunt. "Ow! Sully, go get him!" 

"Sammy, take cover! And I can't, Nathan, just hurry the hell up and we'll all go!" 

"Fastest way's through the ballroom!" Sam joined in, voice coming out rushed. "Nathan, where you at?" 

"Almost there! Sully, did they hit him?! He doesn't have a gun!" 

"I don't know, he's not answering! Sammy!"

Sammy, as it turned out, was in a tree, with sixteen guards just underneath him combing the grass. Scratched and bleeding from a few branches, he clutched the tree's base, sitting in a nervous crouch like a squirrel. His chest was heaving for air, but he held his mouth tightly shut. Fortunately, Italians were a chatty bunch, and these guards were clearly not the elite goons that Sam and Nathan had probably had to deal with. They spoke on Italian so often that Sully's hails were completely missed. Sammy winced as Sully shouted in his ear yet AGAIN. 

Goddamn it Sully, if I'm not answering it's because I can't answer--

One of the guards spoke up again. "Merda. Ho appena saputo che i ladri se ne sono andati. Forse questo ragazzo non è con loro." (Shit. Just got word, the thieves got away. Maybe this kid's not with them.)

Sammy's Italian came in handy once again, and he sagged a little in relief to hear that his brothers had gotten out safely. 

"Fanculo!" Another guard responded angrily, sounding stressed. "Se quel ragazzo non lo è, allora abbiamo appena sparato a un civile. Non ci sarà la fine di questo--" (Fuck! If that kid isn't, then we just shot at a civilian. There'll be no hearing the end of that--" 

And that was when Sammy realized he had a new problem. 

He wasn't the only one who'd been hiding in the tree.


	21. Chapter 21

The lion's eyes were glowing golden, and for the briefest of seconds in a flashlight's errant beam its entire body was fully visible, long and tawny and lithe and literally only a foot away from Sammy. 

Sammy actually closed his eyes for a second in grim humor, clutching the branches that supported him tightly. 'Oh, you have GOT to be kidding me.', he thought. 

Sully's shouts in his ear grew only louder and louder--the man had a loud voice even when relaxed, so when he wanted to be loud he was LOUD, and Sammy knew he was gonna have a huge headache in a little while--and both he and the lion winced as the noise increased. The lion was staying still, obviously not wanting to be spotted by the Italians any more than Sammy did, but he watched its lip curl. It did NOT like Sully's voice.

Please stop yelling, Sully, Sammy thought desperately, clenching his jaw. Please stop please stop--

Sully stopped. Sammy faintly heard popping noises, and both he and the lion jumped to hear them. A twig fell from the lion's side, but fortunately one of the men was swearing in Italian again. They were obviously nervous to have shot at a civilian for nothing, and were hoping to catch him and most likely shut him up. 

Assholes, Sammy thought. That's not cool. 

He started hearing whispers of Sam and Nathan's voices along with the popping. Apparently all three of them were together again, which meant they must be in the car--

"Gun it!" Nathan yelled, and Sully did so, ramming through the estate's front gate. 

"How's Sammy?!" Sam yelled; the gunfire had finally stopped, since they were out of reach, but Sully yelled back "I don't know! I can't get through but the gunshots have stopped! He's not answering and I--" he abruptly lowered his voice "have just realized we don't have to yell anymore. Sammy? Come on, kid, give me a sign or somethin'." 

"Why the HELL did you tell him to poke a MOUNTAIN LION," Nathan snapped. 

"I didn't KNOW that's what it was! I thought it was a rabbit or some bullshit--"

"Goddamnit, Sully, if we got him back just to lose our brother again--" Sam threatened, ripping off his fancy tie in frustration. 

"Sully?" 

"SAMMY!" Sully had almost missed Sammy's whisper underneath his brother's threat. The other Drake brothers leaned forward in the car. "You okay?" he asked, plugging in the headset's handheld so that Sammy's answers played over the radio. 

"...Sort of..." 

"Are you hiding? Are they still there?"

"Yes..."

"Shit. But you're not shot?"

"No..."

"Okay. Sit tight. Wait 'em out. Right boys?" He glanced at them in the rearview mirror. 

Nate and Sam nodded, looking relieved. Sam leaned back and let out a long whoosh of breath. "Holy shit," he gasped. "That was the most stress I think I've ever felt in my life." 

"Sully..." Sammy didn't sound comforted, and the men tensed again. 

"What, Sammy?"

"It's...in the tree with me..."

"Holy fucking shit." Sully almost stopped the car in shock. "Stay still. Just for God's sake, stay still."

"Wait, the MOUNTAIN LION's in the tree with you?" Nathan asked, incredulous. "Jesus fucking Christ!" Sam swore. "Well get OUTTA the tree!" 

"No, don't move! It'll chase you!" Nathan said. 

"Do NOT poke it with a stick," Sully added. "I amend my previous statement. NO lion-poking."

The lion's tail was flicking rapidly now, and three of the guards still weren't leaving. "Stop talking!" Sammy whispered, and its eyes went to him. "It doesn't like it--"

There was silence on the other end, and Sammy thanked the Lord that his brothers could for once be quiet--

"What's happening now?"

"Shut UP Nathan!"

"You shut up!"

"Both of you shut up!" 

One of the guards heard them that time, and his light aimed right up into the tree. Unfortunately for him, his shout of surprise was the last motivation the big cat needed, and it leapt down in an epic pounce to attack. With caterwauling, otherworldly screams--and the screams of the men as they shot at it--Sammy was able to jump down and land in the grass, hitting his arm again. He let out a cry of pain. 

Hearing all of this, his brothers and Sully went right back into panicking. 

"Sammy?"

"Sammy!" 

"You okay?!" 

"JE-sus--"

Groaning and rolling on the ground, Sammy briefly caught a glimpse of the baby lion a few feet away, camouflaged perfectly in the grass. Knowing that babies equaled bad, the adrenaline refilling his veins and muscles feeling taut, he got to his feet and sprinted away back through the one entrance. Sammy didn't think he'd ever run so fast--and he ran faster when a scream sounded again. 

He heard footsteps behind him--they must be the men, he thought over the cacophony of his brothers' voices in his earpiece, he wouldn't be able to hear the cat-

More gunshots fired. Were those at me? Sammy wondered faintly as he ran, almost out--

One hit the very top of his shoulder, stinging so bad that he let out another cry and plummeted to the ground with an 'oof', before he heard the scream again--

His brothers were yelling over the earpieces; Sully pulled the car over just a little ways away, and Sam and Nathan were already getting out, saying "SHIT we gotta help him--" 

A man was over Sammy, about to say something, when he was swiped from Sammy's vision by the cat. Stunned, Sammy tried to crawl backwards, but his right arm's bullet graze was making it tremble and his left arm just wouldn't work at all--

"Sammy!" Nathan was there, and Sam, crouched behind him, pulling him to his feet. He scrambled backwards, getting upright with them, as they all watched the mountain lion fight the three men. "Let's go!" Nathan tugged them away, and they sprinted back to the car, Sammy sending out a little prayer-like thought for the cat. He heard a scream--a man's, not a lion's--and figured that things were probably going the cat's way. 

Then they got to the car, his brothers practically hurled him in, and they were off. 

"Go!" Sam yelled. 

"Already going!" Sully said in response, flooring it. 

"Sammy's hit," Nathan said. 

"Just a graze," Sammy panted, chest heaving from the stress and from his arm. He was in the middle now, and Sam was lifting him to be upright, while Nathan reached in a bag on the floor for first aid, looking genuinely worried -- 

"Nathan, it's FINE, it's just a graze! It's okay!" Nathan let out a huge sigh of relief as the words finally sank in, and he and Sam both sank against the opposite car doors. 

"Jesus Christ, Sammy," Nathan panted. "You're gonna give me a heart attack."

"H-how--How did--" Sammy had to breathe heavily for a second again before continuing "How did you guys rob an auction and I still had the most exciting time?"

All four of them laughed tiredly at that, speeding off into the night.


	22. Chapter 22

"Ow ow ow!" Sammy clutched his head abruptly for a second, interrupting Nathan's cleaning of his wound; it was his left ear, but since his left arm was virtually unusable for the night, he'd had to use the right. Sully had started speaking, and the fact that the earpiece was now in close proximity to its own source made his head fill with shrill feedback. 

"Crap--sorry, Sammy!" Sully called, turning off the handheld, and Sammy ripped the earpiece out of his ear wincing. Sam and Nathan had taken theirs off as soon as they'd gotten in the car, so the problem hadn't even occurred to them. 

"God, I'm gonna have such a headache," Sammy groaned, leaning his head back, still wincing. "You're really loud, Sully."

Sully chuckled. "Yeah, it's my natural charisma." All three boys let out some tired chuckles at that. "Sorry, boy-o. I reckon I didn't need to yell in your ear the entire time you were hiding."

"No," Sammy laughed weakly, "you didn't." Nathan gently gripped his shoulder again and started cleaning, and Sammy asked "Did you get the cross?"

"I got Saint Dismas right here, you wanna say hi?" Sam smirked, sitting forward and pulling the cross out to show Sammy and Nathan. Sammy glanced at it, absorbing the Latin writing and the golden figure, before tilting his head back again with a small smile. They'd gotten it...it'd be worth it...

"Rafe's pr-probably mad," he gasped, and Sam laughed at that a little. "Ohhh, I'll bet he is. And you can be damn sure he wasn't expecting to see US. Wish we could see the look on his face, right Nathan?" Nathan let out a small laugh, distracted by worry about Sammy. 

The excitement of the night had made Sam's perception a little dimmer--he tended to get like that when excited about something, which Sammy and Nathan both already knew--so he only just now realized that his brother had gasped out that last sentence as if in pain. Brow furrowing, he leaned closer to Sammy, turning sideways in his seat with a glance at the road ahead--then, having consciously moved his arm to avoid Sammy's, it clicked. "Arm hurt?"

"Yeah I--fell on it-" Sammy muttered tightly. "I just gotta leave it alone for a while and hope it stops." 

"We got medicine back at the hotel," Sully said from up front. "Nathan, you look like you could use a few pills yourself."

Nathan, done with the wound, laughed and cricked his neck with a groan. "Yeah," he grumbled, "That Nadine Ross of yours sure has a mean high kick."

"Wait, you fought Nadine?" Sammy asked, interested. 

Nate rolled his shoulders gingerly, checking for more injuries. "Ehh, more like she talked and tossed me around like a ragdoll, then threw me out a window." 

Sam whistled low, concerned for both brothers now. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine. Just gotta have ibuprofen for dinner instead of that lovely lobster ravioli I was planning," Nate said ruefully with a laugh. He could feel both his brothers' eyes on him, worried. "But hey," he rubbed Sammy's head affectionately, "I think we're ALL better off than those guys." He nodded back towards the ravine. They all chuckled, and Sam murmured "I still can't believe that happened."

"Seriously, since when are mountain lions even IN Italy?" Sammy asked, nestling further against his brothers for the ride. Now that the adrenaline had worn off, he was getting tired.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Too curious about the cross's contents to shower or change--or eat anything other than the ibuprofen--all three Drake brothers and Sully sat at the hotel room's table, Nathan pouring drinks for everyone and very pointedly not giving one to Sammy. Sammy couldn't care less; he was too nervous about his arm. It was throbbing very lightly, and he was starting to get the hopeful idea that this might have just been a close call, and that it was actually going to be fine on its own. Or, at least not ACTIVELY wrenching in pain. But he didn't want to look the thought in the eye, in case he jinxed it, so he focused on the cross with his brothers. 

"I hope I don't go to hell for this." Sam broke the cross open with a hammer in a solid, thick-sounding hit, then looked inside. His face fell.

"Shit." 

"What?" Nathan asked anxiously, and all three of them leaned in, tension mounting. 

"It's empty."

Now everyone ELSE's faces fell. 

Sam grinned deviously, chuckling to himself, and started shaking a rolled-up scroll out of the cross. Nate leaned back in his seat with a relieved sigh. "Oh, you're SUCH an asshole."

Sully groaned. "He's YOUR brother."

Sammy laughed though, and Sam smirked at him proudly with a glance before unrolling the scroll. It didn't take Nathan long to figure out the significance of the dates and symbols from Avery, and Sam smiled. "Guys. We're going to Scotland!"

"Hold on a second," Sully said grimly, holding up a hand. "You do realize that Rafe knows you're coming?" 

"Well, we'll deal with that problem when we get there," Nate said brightly, shrugging. Sammy gently slid the scroll from under Sam's fingers--making Sam glance at him affectionately for a second--to look at it, glancing between the others as they talked and savoring the feeling of the old paper.

"That psycho'd like nothing better than for you three to show up. Especially this one." He gestured to Sammy with his cigar, and Sammy looked up, thrown by being the center of attention. 

Sam chimed in, leaning back in his chair. "Okay, I think it's safe to say that Rafe likes Sammy the BEST out of the three of us, since he helped him, so even if he beats US up--" he gestured to himself and Nathan, who let out a 'hmpf', "he'll be...nice, to Sammy, or at least his version of nice." 

"Sully, the greatest pirate treasure of all time is within our grasp," Nathan said excitedly, the drinks and the adrenaline getting to him a little. "So whaddya say? We could still use your help!" He looked at Sully adorably, his young perky face and bright blue eyes once again being persuasive as everyone knew they always were.

Sully glanced between the three of them, and sighed. "Well, I do hear the weather in Scotland is particularly fine this time of year." 

"HaHA!" Nate clinked his glass with Sully's triumphantly. Music began outside--some sort of classical outdoor concert--and Nate looked outside, curious. "Hey, that sounds like live music," he said, standing up. He nodded to Sammy, already heading out onto their balcony. "Come on, Sammy, let's check it out!"

Sammy followed immediately, pushing off the table with his good arm and leaving the scroll behind, face cheerful and interested. Sam smiled to himself; his brothers were adorable sometimes. And he'd missed seeing them together. He really, really had.

But once they left, it was just him and Sully. Sam poured himself another drink, and moved to fill Sully's too in an effort to be polite, but Sully held his hand up to signal that he didn't want any more. 

Sighing, Sam sipped his drink and sarcastically asked "Something on your mind, dear?"

He was surprised to see that Sully actually looked old. Old, and nervous. 

Sully murmured, "I just worry about those two."

Sam didn't know what to say, but felt his body tense at the mention of his brothers' well-being.

"Any...particular reason?" he asked, his hostility towards Sully and his not-so-subtle competitiveness about his brothers' affection being temporarily forgone by worry.

Sully sighed again, fondling his cigar. 

"Those boys are young. TOO young." He leaned forward, eyes on Sam's now somberly and sadly. "Look, I know he acts older, but Nathan is BARELY OLD ENOUGH TO DRINK." Sam turned away for a second, and started lighting a cigarette. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't thought about that, too, especially while they were in prison. "And Sammy?" Sully continued earnestly. "That boy should be worrying about pop quizzes and proms, Sam. Not whether or not he's going to get SHOT. And I know you and I, we're meant for this life, no doubt about it--and I'm not SAYING that we should try to kick them out, plus there's NO way they'd put up with that--but...the potential is there. The potential for what they could be, without us. Safe, happy, probably doing something simple but enjoying it--helping the world, god KNOWS what--" His hands went into the air for a second as he tried to refocus. His voice had been getting louder and he didn't want Sammy or Nathan to hear. 

"I just..." he finished quietly. "It just gets on my mind sometimes. The danger we're putting these two in. Keeps me up at night, thinking about their funerals." Sam looked genuinely upset at that, and took a deep breath, face serious and tight. "And I KNOW--" Sully suddenly said intensely, pointing his cigar right at the other man "and YOU know, that those two baby brothers of yours will do anything you say, Sam. Literally, anything. They will walk themselves right into their own early graves for you. And that scares me."

Sammy and Nathan walked back in then, laughing, and Sully excused himself, saying he was off to go buy their tickets--leaving Sam with a whole slew of worrisome thoughts.


	23. Chapter 23

"Hey, Sammy," Sully said loudly over the plane's engine, halfway on their flight to Scotland, "Before you boys start doing any of the climbing around the cathedral, I got an idea for somethin' that might help your arm." 

Sammy, who was sitting next to Sam in the back--with Nathan riding shotgun--looked between his brothers and Sully, both interested and a little tense at the mention of it. He didn't want his brothers thinking about his arm too much; he knew Nathan was already gearing up to have questions, and he still wasn't sure what he was going to say. 

"What?" Sam asked it before Sammy could. "A cortisone shot," Sully said. "I got some contacts here who can get us one, and it'll last six months or so. Not good to do them too often, but they're extremely effective. It'll buy you some time."

Sam and Nathan watched Sammy, gauging whether or not he was up for it, and Sammy gave them a positive half-shrug and smile. "Yeah, sure, okay. I'm good with that." The topic of his arm was an uncomfortable one, but the prospect of having no pain was worth it. "Nathan, are you still bad with needles?" he asked, and some chuckles and Nate's groan filled the plane, distracting everyone for a few moments. Nathan really WAS bad with needles. 

The next night, they were all in a discreet Scottish hotel room, planning on hitting the cathedral the next day. Sammy was sitting on one of the beds, cortisone shot laid out beside him, while Nate grew greener and Sam and Sully argued. 

"Nate, maybe you shouldn't watch--" Sammy said, and Sam paused his argument enough to grab Nathan's shoulder and second the idea. "Yeah, Nathan, last thing we need is you passin' out on us, all right, go take a shower or something."

Nate looked uncomfortable; he really DID HATE needles, but he also wanted to be there to support his brother, in case Sammy got scared. Sam knew this, and Sammy did too, and they both gave him supportive smiles. "I'm fine, Nathan," Sammy said positively, giving him a cheery--and genuine--smile. "Please don't pass out."

Nathan sighed and reluctantly moved away, still too nervous and protective to leave the room but convinced enough to sit down on the opposite end and turn almost completely around. 

Sam and Sammy smirked at each other, recognizing their brother's adorableness, before Sam continued arguing with Sully. "I should do it," he said. "I'm younger than you."

"You might be younger than me, Samuel, but I guarantee you I've got steadier hands."

"Says the man with alcohol in his system 24/7--"

"That alcohol is WHY I've got steady hands, boy-o--"

"You know what, don't call me that, Victor, and I'm not the one who's one geezer-level-heart-attack away from a graveyard, so--"

"Okay, maybe NEITHER of you should do it," Sammy said, holding up his good hand in an attempt to placate them. The shot was from a HUGE needle--hence Nathan's queasiness--and needed to be administered on his arm in six different places. He'd already labeled them with little dots, gritting his teeth while he did it, but for some reason Sam and Sully both seemed set on being the ones to actually do the injecting. Why, Sammy had no idea. Stupid competitive stuff, he figured. They still weren't over the opposing-father-figure-roles, which was strange to see since Sam was so much younger than Sullivan. Sammy and Nathan both actually found it faintly amusing--not that they would ever say that to either man out loud. 

"Your fingers are twitching, Sam--"

"That's just because I'm pissed at YOU--"

"No, it's because you need a cigarette--"

"NO, it's because--"

"This isn't really inspiring any confidence..." Nate added from his chair. "You okay, Sammy?"

Sammy was clenching his jaw tightly, having just finished the painful injections himself at an awkward angle, and it took him a second to answer. "Y-yeah, I'm good. Guys?"

Sam and Sully were still arguing. "Guys!" They both looked at him, asking "What?" rather sassily. 

Sammy held up the now-empty needle, feeling his arm tingle and his spirits rise at the positive sensation. "It's done."

"Wha--you did it yourself?" Sam said, his bluster immediately fading.

Sammy looked between the three of them, their faces surprised, and shrugged. "What? You were taking too long!"

"How's it feel?" Nathan, still looking a little green around the gills, moved over to sit next to Sammy and look at his arm even though there was nothing in particular to look at. Sammy grinned. "It feels good. It feels like a normal one now, I bet I could even lift it--"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, kiddo," Sully said, holding up a hand from where he sat at the table. "You gotta be careful with those shots. Your arm might FEEL like it's good as new, but it's not. You can still do some serious damage--and that injection means that you won't even feel it. We're gonna have to keep an eye on you." He lifted his cigar. "And for now, maybe just keep pretending it hurts." 

Sammy looked crestfallen. He'd already been visualizing climbing the cliffs with his brothers--

Nate looked sad, finding himself at a loss for what to say in the sight of his brother's barefaced disappointment. Sammy was not usually one for openly showing when he was upset, at ALL, and seeing it was incredibly jarring and alarming. 

Sam recognized the concerning change, too, and immediately stepped over to Sammy, sitting on his other side and jostling him lightly but comfortingly. "Hey, come on Sammy, it's not so bad," he said, his accent strong, and Sammy tentatively looked at him, his puppy eyes doing things to Sam's heart "You'll be able to do everything in no time. And until then, your arm doesn't have to hurt at all, right? That's a good thing! It's just gonna take a little longer. Hey, you can ask Nate here," he nodded towards Nathan, who was right on Sammy's other side, looking anxious "and he'll tell you that climbing's...not that fun. Right Nathan?" He gave Nathan a pointed look, and Nate blinked. 

"Yeah! Yeah, Sammy, it gets old. Seriously. Most of our bruises and scrapes end up being from that. Not to mention the fact that handholds give out, like, all the time and we almost die."

"They only give out when YOU climb, Nathan," Sam said jokingly, drawing a little chuckle out of Sammy. Bolstered by the sound, Nathan laughed and pretended to be offended. "I'll have you know that I am an EXCELLENT climber, Sam, it's just that I volunteer to break all the cliffs first so that you don't have to. I'm being USEFUL."

"Ah. Why, thank you," Sam said sardonically, keeping his arm around Sammy but relaxing a little more at Sammy's tiny little smile. 

"You're welcome," Nate said formally, and Sammy's smile got a little bigger. "Come on," Sam said, abruptly tapping Sammy's neck as he withdrew his arm "you can walk down to the store with me and get some cigarettes. See if there's any Scottish babes around." That made all three of the other men laugh, and Sammy got up obligingly to follow him, arm feeling blessedly normal and the depressing news feeling a little further away.

It only took them a couple minutes to get to the store down the street, stopping to read the historical signage about a nearby building along the way. Sam was back out with his cigarettes within just a few seconds, it felt like, while Sammy stayed outside and watched people drive on the other side of the road and listened to the hum of the accents going by. 

Sam took a long drag on one of his new cigarettes, the night sky getting darker, and sighed. "Better?" Sammy asked, and Sam nodded in response with a smile. "Better." 

He squinted while he took another drag, and Sammy knew that meant he was thinking. It was crazy, how little they'd all changed. They could still read each other like books. But Sammy wasn't sure if he wanted to be read--

"So" Sam stepped closer, the night quiet now that the recent crowd had just passed by, the moon full and high "What happened to your arm, huh?" His voice was low and earnest, his face sad, and Sammy sensed that Sam already knew it would be particularly bad news. 

He shrugged, and heard his own voice get quieter and go up a little in self-defense. "Bad foster home."

Sam's face fell at that, and he stepped even closer. "You were in foster homes while we were gone?"

"Eventually, yeah. Only because they were going to give me money for it when I turned eighteen, and I figured that would help us." Sammy was looking at the ground. 

"It was bad?" Sam's voice was deep, but soft and serious. Sammy just nodded. He looked small to Sam then, small and little and vulnerable--even more so than his baby brothers ALWAYS did in his eyes. Overcome with emotion, Sam closed the distance between them and wrapped Sammy in a tight, big, two-armed hug, his cigarette hanging tremulously from two fingers as his arms wrapped themselves all the way around his little brother's neck. "I'm sorry, little brother," he said roughly, and a little brokenly. "I'm so sorry." 

Sammy broke a little at that, too, and looked up, lips and eyelashes trembling, at his brother. "Hey, I'll be okay," he whispered, sounding pathetically light-hearted. "It's just gonna take a while, that's all." 

Sam sighed, and hugged him tighter again before rubbing his little brother's head and smoking his cigarette. "Come on," he said, still standing close "We gotta go back and get some sleep before our big date with St. Dismas tomorrow. And that shot's probably tired you out, right?"

Sammy nodded reluctantly; he felt weird, like warm and fuzzy, and it wasn't JUST because of his brother Sam. He'd pop some Benadryl or something when he got back in, he figured. Sam's arm still around him tightly, they walked slowly back to the hotel for some sleep.


	24. Chapter 24

They were heading out onto the plane the next morning, having just rented a car for the quick drive down to the hangar, when Sam stopped Sammy on the tarmac. 

"Alllll right, little brother," he said smoothly, and something in his voice made Sammy tense. Sam picked up on it immediately--and Nathan did, too, right beside them where he was unloading the bags--but deliberately kept his voice smooth and quick, looking ahead at Sullivan while he spoke instead of at his younger brothers' faces. 

Sammy knew that voice. Sammy remembered that voice. It was the one he'd heard Sam use on Nathan when he had to get shots. It meant that he was about to do something unpleasant, but necessary, and that he wanted to do it calmly and quickly before the victim could freak out. 

Sam almost smiled at the obvious tension in Sammy and Nathan's bodies; being able to read each other so well meant that he'd spotted it in less than a minute, and it was so similar to the behavior of a puppy being disciplined that he nearly laughed.

The 'nearly' failed, and he let out a little chuckle as he grabbed Sammy right shoulder and pulled him towards him. Sammy stumbled along the way, not expecting to be physically moved, and his eyes stayed big and confused while Sam reached into his pocket. 

"I know you wanna climb, and you're gonna hate me for this, but it'll help keep you from using it." He pulled out long white Ace bandage, and Sammy's shoulders sank. His eyes, looking even more big and soft and calf-like than usual, cut into Sam's. 

The oldest Drake brother laughed, trying to defuse the look. "I said don't hate me! Stop with the puppy eyes. No puppy eyes." He jokingly put his left hand over Sammy's eyes for a second, blocking them, and that was enough to make Sammy--and Nathan, who had stepped closer to gauge Sammy's reaction--both laugh, although Sammy's laugh was meek and grudgingly given. 

Sam began expertly and gently wrapping up Sammy's arm in a sling against his chest, while Sully walked back over from his plane. "Good idea," he said, and the older boys watched as he steadfastly ignored Sammy's glare. It was more spunk than he'd seen in the kid so far, he figured, so it must be a good thing. "Come on, plane's ready." 

"On our way," Nathan said, giving Sammy a bracing pat on the back and moving off with some bags. It was just the two of them again. 

"Too tight?" Sam asked, Sammy's body rocking back and forth by default as the bandage was wound. He gave another little tug on his little brother's bandages, and Sammy--who was now mostly looking down at his arm and Sam's chest, instead of up at his brother--shook his head. "No, it's okay," he said quietly. 

Sam stepped back and ruffled Sammy's head, giving him a once-over. "Not bad, if I do say so myself. You let me know if it gets too tight, all right?" He raised an eyebrow in mock warning, and Sammy gave him a grateful, but rueful, little smile and nod. Sam ruffled his head for a second again affectionately, pulling him against him in a supportive side-hug, and they started heading towards the plane, Sammy trying and failing to keep the disappointment off his face. His arm FINALLY didn't hurt...but he was still benched. With this luck, maybe the tower climb would be the ONLY time he'd ever get to climb with his brothers. And the fact that his arm--the fact that the past that was the CAUSE of his problem with his arm--was still a presence, here on this sunny day on a tarmac with his long-lost brothers, was the most upsetting of all. But Sammy tried not to think about that as he walked. 

Sam couldn't help feeling guilty--both of his younger brothers really did have a hell of a good set of puppy eyes--and was careful to help Sammy up into the plane without him KNOWING that he was being helped in. Nathan saw it, though, and smiled to himself. 

Only twenty minutes later, it was time for the climb. Sully let the floatplane down on the water, Sammy reluctantly standing at the plane's side-door beside him, while the two older Drake brothers stood up on the hill up above and waved a temporary goodbye. Sammy stared up at them as if he was looking at manna from heaven that was fading away, and kept staring until they were out of sight. 

It was then that he had the panic attack.


	25. Chapter 25

"Well, guess we'll have to keep the porch light on for a while, eh Sammy?" Sully was saying, standing next to Sammy in the plane's doorway and looking up at the cliff affectionately. But Sammy was already reaching for the side of the plane's door, gripping it fiercely and starting to bend over as his chest clenched. "Sammy?" Sully glanced over, and, seeing Sammy crumple, grabbed him worriedly. "Sammy! What hurts? Sammy?" 

Sammy lowered himself to the ground despite Sully's grip, clenching his jaw now and shaking so violently that Sully actually thought he was seizing. "Sammy--" Sully sounded so panicked that Sammy had to gasp out "Pa-panic attack-"

"Okay. Just breathe, Sammy. Breathe." Sully sat next to him and put a hand on his back up near his neck, rubbing gently. Sammy should have known not to underestimate the older man; he figured out the cause of the panic in only seconds. "They'll be right back, Sammy. They're not going anywhere. Nobody's leaving you again," he said plaintively, holding Sammy tighter. Sammy glanced at him, eyes looking more tired and despairing and world-weary than Sully had ever thought he'd see on a kid that age. "Don't worry," was all he could think to say in that moment, before rallying and going back to murmuring comforting things. "They're coming back, Sammy. They're coming right back. Just because you can't see them doesn't mean they're not there. Just breathe. Keep breathing." 

It only took a few more minutes for Sammy's breath to slow down; he leaned his head back against the plane's side tiredly, and Sully shifted next to him. "You want some water?" 

Sammy nodded, too worn out to be polite and say thanks. 

Sully was quick to come back, and sat quietly for a moment as Sammy sipped his water. 

"They don't know things are this bad, do they," he said after Sammy swallowed.

Sammy leaned forward to bend over his knees, already shaking his head. "No." 

"Is this what you were nervous about on the cliffside in Italy? That is, BEFORE the mountain lion?" 

Sammy grinned weakly at the joke. "Yeah," he said quietly, again marveling at the man's perception. 

"You should tell them. Hell, I should tell them." 

"It'll be fine," Sammy squeaked out. "It's just gonna take a little while. I'll get used to them being around again."

Sully didn't look convinced. "Still. They wouldn't be gallivanting off so much if they knew it was so hard for you."

"They're not exactly 'gallivanting', Sully," Sammy attempted to joke, but his voice was still feeble and his eyes were sad. 

"Sammy, you're only fourteen," Sully said gently, leaning forward to meet his gaze. "You're allowed to be scared without your brothers." 

"I don't wanna be alone again," Sammy said, voice breaking a little. It had come out unintentionally, but the rocking of the floatplane and Sully's calming voice was making him feel less afraid. He looked up as he spoke, letting his emotions fill his eyes. Sully sighed at the sight.

"Goddammit, kid, you can't look like that and not tell your brothers."

Sammy rubbed his buzzcut-head with his unbandaged hand in an attempt to refocus, and shifted to be more upright. "I'll be all right," he said faintly, "but thanks." 

Sully sighed again. "Hey, why don't you get some rest while they're gone." He stood up and helped Sammy to his feet, nudging him over to the bench-like seat and not-so-subtly (but still gently) pushing him down. 

Sammy looked up at him, puppy-eyed again. "I'm not so great when it comes to sleep." Except when it was with his brothers, he thought with relief. 

"Then here." Sully reached into his nearby luggage. "Sleeping pills. Don't tell your brothers I use 'em, though. Wouldn't want Sam thinking I was anywhere past my prime." 

Sammy laughed a little and took one. "Just one, now," Sully said, handing Sammy the water again in an endearingly fatherly way. "Two would be too much for a kid like you. Still got a lot of weight to put on." 

Twelve minutes later, Sammy was asleep; and Sully was sitting in the cockpit, watching with concern as he turned on his walkie. 

"Any updates, Nate?" 

"Hey, Sully," Nate said brightly, sounding out-of-breath, "we just made it to the cemetery. Looks like we've got a little bit more legwork to do to keep our friend Avery happy." 

"What Avery wants, Avery gets," Sam added over his shoulder. 

"Yeah, well hurry up," Sully said, letting a little bit of his stress color his voice. He knew Nate would pick up on it right away. "You guys being gone is making Sammy really nervous."

"Is he ok?" Nate asked. He stopped walking, and Sam straightened from where he'd been examining the edge of a cliff. 

"Yeah, I convinced him to take a sleeping pill to calm him down. And me, too, I might add. Plus I figure the poor kid could use some sleep." 

"You're not wrong," Nate said with a rueful little laugh.

"Should we come back?" Sam asked, genuinely forgetting about the treasure. 

"Nah, he's out now. But it couldn't hurt to hurry."

"Wait." A thought had occurred to Nathan. "You gave him a SLEEPING PILL? As in, an ADULT sleeping pill?" 

"Jesus, Nate, it's not like I CHLOROFORMED him or anything," Sully said sassily. 

"Sully, he weighs like ninety pounds! He's gonna be out for like six days!"

Sully was silent. 

"Sullivan..." Sam said threateningly. "Did you seriously drug our baby brother?" 

Sully was silent again for a moment before moving on brusquely. "Well, it's too late now. The past is in the past and yadda yadda yadda. Just go find that treasure. I'll let you know if anything happens."

"NOTHING will happen, Sully, 'cuz he's never gonna wake UP," Nate groaned. "Oh, nonsense," Sully said. "He's a tough little guy, he'll be fine."

"Yeah exactly, Sully," Nate said as they grudgingly started walking again. "He's a LITTLE guy." 

"Just go find that treasure," Sully said. "Over and out." 

"Dammit." Nathan sighed. "He seriously drugged a fourteen year-old kid," Sam snapped, exasperated. 

"Well," Nate sighed again, "he's right. Nothing we can do right now." 

"Fine. You good?" Sam poised himself to jump into a rope swing across the next set of cliffs, waves raging below. 

"Yeah. Let's go."


	26. Chapter 26

Sammy sat up slowly, yawning and rubbing his eyes in such an adorable toddler-like gesture that Sam's heart melted even further than it already had been watching him sleep. He watched his youngest brother come to, blinking his long lashes slowly and looking around the plane, focusing gradually on the presence of both his brothers. 

"You're back," he said happily, punctuating it with another yawn and sitting up further perkily. 

"Yep, and only dozens of near-miss gunshots to spare. Check it out, baby brother." Sam put his arm around him, giving him an affectionate squeeze, and held up a coin. "We're rich." 

Nathan, who had been been standing up talking to Sully--mostly berating him about the sleeping pills in an attempt to release some of his worry on SOMEBODY--was quick to come over and sit on Sammy's other side, taking off the blanket wrapped around him as he did so. "Oh, Sammy, thank God you're awake," he said breathlessly. "We thought Sully over here might have over-drugged you." He sent a glare towards the older man, who peeked around his pilot seat to protest. 

"Hey! The kid woke up, didn't he?" 

"Yeah, only HOURS later," Nathan snapped. "You feelin' okay?" He asked, watching Sammy's face, and Sammy felt Sam on his other side looking at him the same way. 

"Yeah, I'm good." Sammy gave him a smile; he DID feel more refreshed than he had in a long time. "I gotta admit," Sam chuckled, "you DO look more well-rested." 

"Hey, don't support Sully's drugging habit!" Nathan hissed. 

Sam and Sammy laughed as Sammy noticed the blanket wrapped around the middle brother. "You guys go for a swim?" he asked curiously. 

"Yeah...long story." They told him the tales of their experience in Scotland then--Rafe hadn't been there, but Nadine had, unfortunately.

"And now," Sam said, tossing the coin up and down with a deft flick of his wrist, "we start the race to King's Bay." 

"I think Avery was recruiting. Sammy, see--" Nathan leaned further forward (the two of them had been holding Sammy tighter and tighter in their excited little huddle), showing Sammy the coin "there's a volcano on the other side of this."

"And there's a volcano in King's Bay," Sully added proudly from the front. 

"Cool." Sammy smiled, pleased now that his brothers were back--he was decidedly NOT thinking about the panic attack he'd had--and now that he was getting to be part of the adventure. 

"Hey." Sam focused on Nathan now, who still had the blanket on. "It's been hours already. You still cold?" 

Nathan shrugged, and Sam couldn't help but smile. Neither of his little brothers liked to admit when they might be sick, or when they needed a break. He'd be lying if he said that parenting didn't come easily--and wasn't actually enjoyable--to him. 

"Here, take this one too." Sam leaned over and handed him his own, now-dry, blanket. "And put on some dry clothes--you'll catch a cold," he said knowingly as Nathan visibly geared up to protest. "And Victor," Sam turned towards the cockpit "give Nathan one of those sleeping pills, too, why don'tcha." 

"What?" Nathan said, dismayed. "I don't need that--"

"YES, you do," Sam said casually, brushing off Nate's protests as easily as brushing off a fly. Sully was already handing Sam the bottle. "YOU need to sleep and to warm up, and YOU-" he re-shook Sammy, wrapping his arm around him again "need food. And then I" he took a beer from a cooler that was tied down on the floor "need a drink."

"You're not hungry?" Sammy asked, deflecting from being noticed again. He and Nathan always tried to get out of Sam's way when he was on a parenting roll--but ironically, that was always when Sam had a laser-like focus on his brothers. 

"Eh, I ate while you were sleeping and this one was shivering over here." He nodded affectionately towards his little brother, who was grudgingly taking one of Sully's pills. 

"Y'know, eating is probably why you managed to wake up faster than the six DAYS that Nathan thought you'd be asleep," Sully smirked. "Good thing we'd made you down those hamburgers." 

Sammy smiled at Sully, a small smile that his older brothers recognized as a conceding one. Sam ruffled his head cutely. "Sully said you missed us while we were gone."

Sammy felt his heart rate jump at that; he'd thought they were off this topic, and preferably not going to bring it up again. Goddammit. He managed to keep his cover, though, since Sam had still been ruffling his head when he'd said it. 

"Eh, I'm not too crazy about being left alone."

Sammy was surprised even when he said it; but he was relieved as well, particularly because he knew Nathan and Sam were Sammy-perceptive enough to hear the genuine upset in his sentence. For Sammy, that admittance was the equivalent of a huge breakdown. 

Sam straightened and Nathan sat up from where he'd been laying down to sleep. Their concerned faces made Sammy feel worse, and he tried not to look at them, but Sam's head was right next to his and he couldn't help but give him a little glance--knowing that that glance would contain the real fear and panic that he'd felt, unveiled. 

Sam saw it, and gave him a hug. "Hey hey heyyyy, baby brother," he said comfortingly, sounding genuinely worried, and Nathan sat up all the way "we're not gonna leave you behind. Not ever again. That's a promise, hm?" he moved Sammy's head back enough to firmly see Sammy's face. "Do you believe me?"

Sammy sighed, unable to stop himself from saying it. "Almost." His voice got fainter as he saw Sam and Nathan's faces fall in guilt-ridden dismay. "It--it's just gonna take a while," he said half-heartedly, looking smaller and smaller. Sam sighed now, and hugged him again, putting his head on top of Sammy's smaller one. "Can't come soon enough. You got nothing to worry about, baby brother. You really don't." He sighed again, and Sammy let Sam rock him back and forth. 

Sammy looked up to see Nathan's puppy-eyes looking huge across from him, and gave him a bracing smile. Little, but genuine. "Go to sleep, Nate," he said lightheartedly. "You don't have to stare at me. Plus you already took it."

Nate gave a tiny smile at that. "Yeah," a little yawn escaped as he spoke, making all three of them laugh, and he lay back down, still worried but the sleepiness growing "I guess you're right. I'll let it be Sam's shift to stare at you until I wake up." 

"Hm," Sam chuckled, "Okay." 

They both watched Nathan for a few minutes in relaxed, comfy, still-cuddling silence. As Nate's eyes closed and his breathing evened, Sam took a sandwich from the cooler, keeping one arm around Sammy tightly --then, looking over his brother's still-rangy body, he took out another sandwich. "Make that TWO sandwiches," he said, and Sammy took them with a rueful little laugh. Seeing that Sammy was only taking them with his unbound right hand, Sam reached for them again. "Oh, here, let me." As Sammy took the now-opened sandwiches back gratefully, Sam went back to holding him with one arm and opening his beer with the other. He nodded towards Sammy's arm, the beer swig belying his concern but his eyes still showing it behind the bottle. "How's that arm doin'?"

Sammy shrugged with a smile, talking a little louder now that Nathan was definitely out. "It's good. I still can't even feel it--I mean, I can," he amended, seeing Sam's worried intake of breath "but it just feels like a normal arm that happens to be wrapped up." 

"Hm." There was silence for a minute as Sammy started chewing. "I'm sorry you couldn't climb with us today, baby brother." Sam sounded so sad and solemn and GUILTY that Sammy looked up at him, his eyes looking even more puppy-like than usual. Because for one of those rare occasions, SAM looked puppy-like and sad and tired. It made Sammy's heart break in half to see his biggest brother like that. "Sam, don't feel guilty," he said, and Sam looked down at him in an odd reversal of roles for once. "Really." He gave a cheery, but poignant, little shrug and smile. "It's not your fault that this happened to me. You were in prison. And if you feel guilty, then I'LL feel guilty about you feeling guilty. I'll still get to climb, just not today," he finished brightly, taking another bite of his sandwich. 

Sam looked at him, eyes warm and loving now instead of sad. "You're one helluva little brother, you know that?" 

Sammy laughed through his sandwich and nodded as Sam gave him another squeeze. They went back to watching Nathan sleep, Sam sipping beers and Sammy dutifully finishing his sandwiches, as Sully continued to fly them through the night.


	27. Chapter 27

Two days later, the boys were in Madagascar, and heading over to a shack to rent a jeep. It had been a nice flight, really, with everyone taking turns sleeping--or staring at Sammy without OBVIOUSLY staring at him, even though Sammy totally noticed--or talking. Sam had wanted to know every language Sammy spoke, which had taken a while, and was impressed. Sammy liked hearing his brothers talk, whether it was job-related or witty banter or Sam's slapstick pirate jokes. And Sully had let him come up front and learn the basics of flying the plane--since, he said, it would probably come up at some point in work like this. Even if learning had been a little hard one-handed.

Now the four of them were bunched together as they moved through the marketplace, and Sammy tapped Sully's shoulder. "Sully, do you want help with the rental guy?" He nodded towards the shack where jeeps were waiting. Sully looked down at him, surprised. "Well, don't suppose you just happen to speak Malagasy." 

"I do," Sammy said lightly. Sam paused with his cigarette and Nathan turned around. "Really? What, did you learn it on the plane while we were sleeping?" Sam joked. Sammy nodded. "Well, yeah."

"Wait--really?" Nate stared at him incredulously.

"Just how smart ARE you, Sammy?"

Sammy looked between the three bigger men, making himself small and looking like he was in trouble. "I...I mean, it's just with languages," he said feebly and quietly, looking sheepish. Sam gaped at him, grinning slowly and raising his eyebrows, before shaking his head and ruffling Sammy's head again, cigarette in his mouth. "Well, I'll be damned. Yeah, go help Victor get a deal if you want."

"And a winch," Nate called after them.

"No winch, Nate!" Sully called back.

"YES WINCH, SULLY!" 

Sammy's Malagasy DID come in handy, and they did indeed get a winch. Two hours later, they were off-roading through the Madagascar outlands, heading for the volcano and stopping for breaks every time Nathan and Sammy saw lemurs. All Sam could do was laugh as he watched his brothers chase and frolic with the lemurs, and he managed to get a snapshot of them with wild lemurs on their heads once he figured out how to use his phone. Sam was NOT technologically-savvy. 

"Come on, guys, come say hi," Sammy beamed, the lemur still on his head. Sam laughed, but kept his distance. "I'm good."

"Sam's not too good with rodents," Nate told Sully, who chuckled. "Truth be told, neither am I. Although those ARE cute little things." The lemur cocked its head at him, and he couldn't help reaching out to pet it a little. 

"All right, all right, let's get this show on the road," Sully said eventually. Sam was eager to search for Avery's treasure as well--but this was the most excited he'd seen his brothers in a long time, and Sammy's smile really did look just like his happy little kid one.

It took explosions, several gunfire battles (during which Nathan and Sam kept Sammy firmly bent over underneath cover, never leaving him alone), one epic car chase, a heart-pounding quasi-Jeep-cliff-accident (during which Sam clutched Sammy for dear life, since one arm wasn't enough to hold on by himself), and a few of Nate's puzzle skills to figure out their next destination--a remote island off the coast. Heading back to the hotel that night, everyone was tired, excited, and in good spirits--but that still didn't stop Sammy's big brothers from checking in on him.

They were all getting ready for bed while munching on food, too tired to sit up and actually eat at the table, and Sully and Nathan were in the bathroom with the door open, fighting good-naturedly over the sink while they brushed their teeth. 

Sam, meanwhile, was sliding into bed next to Sammy, excited for sleep, excited for the next day, and still excited to have back his baby brother. He realized he hadn't actually checked in with him as much in the last few hours, and put an arm around the quietly, daintily-eating boy. It was crazy, he thought. Sammy's mannerisms were still so much like when he was a little kid. He was reminded again that Sammy was still just that: a KID. And he'd had quite a day for someone only recently out of the orphanage world. 

"That good, little brother?" he gave Sammy a squeeze, and Sammy nodded with a smile before offering some. Sam held up a hand, chuckling. "No way, Sammy. That's all you." Sammy looked rueful, but agreeable, and went back to eating, hoping his brother would keep his arm there. It felt good to be close with someone again; he'd been raised on it, then bereft of it for years (aside from the...men's hands. But Sammy shoved that thought down almost quicker than it came up.) 

He couldn't help something falling over his face though, a cloud that lasted only a little millisecond--but Sam caught it, instantly, and held him even tighter, ducking his head to catch his eye. "Y'all right?"

"Mh-hm." Sammy nodded, but Sam noticed that he looked pale. Sammy had also moved his arm a little today, in a moment of urgency in the car; he hadn't been able to help it, and the arm had just lifted to grab on instinct. Sam wanted to ask if it hurt, but didn't want to worry Sammy if it didn't. 

The arm didn't hurt, and the men weren't here, but they both were still on Sammy's mind anyway. He snuggled closer to Sam, even though he was looking down at his food, and Sam took that as the warning sign that it was: Sammy was upset about something, despite the good news they'd had today, and he wanted comfort. So Sam tightened his grip and gently leaned them both back further against the headboard to lounge, listening to the other two comically fight. He knew Sammy wanted him to stay so close, because his little brother was moving tentatively, trying not to give off any signals that might mistakenly make the side-hug leave. 

Nate came out of the bathroom then, seeing the huddle, and it only took one glance at Sam to understand: 'Sammy's upset about something, but we're not gonna pursue it tonight. We're just gonna keep him company.' 

He instantly and casually lowered himself into the bed, joining in on the other side with his own food, and offered Sam some. 

"Hey, Sam, you want some?"

Sam laughed again. "No, I already ate. Jesus Christ, Nathan, if you keep offering me food too you're gonna be as skinny as this one here." He ruffled Sammy's head, and Sammy smiled a little bigger. 

"Maybe Sammy should have some of mine, then," Nate offered lightly, but his voice wasn't firm, and he just laughed when Sammy shook his head. "No? Alright, then. Time for bed." He slid down further, the others following suit, and Sully grinned as he came out of the bathroom. "Night, boys. I'll be enjoying my space over here, all to myself." He smirked with a laugh before turning the light off, the moonlight coming in a little from outside, and the boys instantly snuggled closer to each other, arms going around to encircle one another tenderly. Nate and Sam were careful to avoid Sammy's left arm, while he lay on his right, and no one had a retort to Sully's line because not one of the Drake brothers wanted to sleep alone. He could enjoy his solitary bed if he wanted; as far as the Drake boys were concerned, they had the better deal. And, each brother thought simultaneously while snuggling in further, not one of them would give this up for anything.


	28. Chapter 28

Sammy jerked upright in bed with a jolt, the king-size big enough to keep Nathan from waking up with the disturbance. But that didn't work on Sam, who was sitting down at the table looking over the sea charts leading to the island with the treasure. 

"Bad dream?" His voice was caustic and casual as ever, low and husky since he was trying to be quiet for Nathan--but his eyes looked a little worried. They became MORE worried when he realized just how tired his little brother looked, even though he'd had some extra sleep on the plane. 

Sammy nodded slowly as he was bent over, rubbing his eyes. "Yeah." Sam stood up and came over, sitting on the edge of the other bed. Sully rolled further away in his sleep with a groan. "Y'okay?"

"Yeah," Sammy mumbled, sighing and sounding so much older than his fourteen years that Sam felt his chest twinge. Sammy shouldn't have to sound like that. "Yeah, I never remember what they're about." It wasn't EXACTLY a lie--but Sammy did have a pretty good hunch. 

"This happen to you a lot?"

"Mhm." Sammy sounded grumbly and sleepy, but started to get up with a sigh, rubbing his head now in that usual simple gesture that meant he was stressed and trying to refocus himself. Sam had noticed in the past week, not without a dash of pride, that it was similar to what HE did when he ran his fingers through his hair. 

"Whoa, whoa whoa," Sam said, standing up to be over a head taller than his baby brother and gently trying to push him back down onto the bed. "You've only slept for like two hours, Sammy. You need more than that."

"That's how much I usually get," Sammy protested.

"Yeeesssss, and your eyes are sunken in. Not to mention you could stand to gain at least twenty pounds. Come on, people are gonna think I'm a bad big brother! What'll people say, huh?" He shoved Sammy further down into a laying position; Sammy complied reluctantly, groaning. 

"Sam, I'm not gonna be able to go back to sleep--"

"Well, you're gonna TRY," Sam said sternly, smiling a little. He loved "parenting". Especially because Sammy was a pretty easy mark, and didn't put up much of a fuss about anything. 

Sammy gave him a surprisingly somber look. "It never works, Sam." 

Sam rubbed his brother's buzzcut-head; he knew Sammy and Nathan both liked that. "Yeah, well that was because your big brothers weren't here," he said brightly and matter-of-factly. Sammy's eyes were fixed on him, considering. "But now we are. Go to sleep, Sammy, I got your back. And Nathan will too, if he ever wakes up."

Sammy laughed at that as he snuggled into his blankets. "He sleeps like he's dead."

Sam laughed. "I know. It's hilarious." He rubbed Sammy's head one more time. "Sleep, Sammy. I'll be right over here."

"How come YOU'RE up?" It was Sammy's turn to look worried now, peeking over the sheets, but Sam just grinned. "No changing the subject! If you MUST know," Sam's smirk shifted to a giddy, whispered giggle "I'm just too fuckin' excited. God, Sammy, we're gonna find Libertalia." He sighed ecstatically, hands on his hips as he beamed towards the opposite wall with a faraway gaze. Sammy watched him, smiling, until Sam abruptly broke character and came to. "Stop distracting me! SLEEP." He gave Sammy another gentle shove further down, into the mattress even though the boy was already there. "I'll come in soon, aright?"

Sammy nodded, pleased and feeling better despite the nightmares--but Sam's eyes lingered on him long after his had closed. Now that Sammy was asleep, he could stare at him uninterrupted--could see the hollows and bruises, fading but still a little present, and the grim twitching of his mouth. Sam thought of what Nathan had said again, that something had HAPPENED to make Sammy run, and sighed. 

He turned the desk lamp off, forgoing his planning for cuddling as he slid in under the sheets. Sammy made a little humming sound when he did, subconsciously feeling his security blanket doubling in size, and shifted a little as Sam made the mattress move. 

Well, Sam thought to himself, looking at his brothers, eyes getting sleepy despite himself, whatever problems we got will at the very LEAST be better if we've found Libertalia.


	29. Chapter 29

Sammy did manage to sleep more once Sam got in the bed; being cocooned by his brothers meant that they all slept almost as well as they had on that first day out of prison. By the time they were up and having breakfast, he'd all but forgotten about the thoughts from last night--and when he got to go out on a decently-sized motorboat, heading for the mystery island, all other thoughts left him completely. He'd always dreamed of being by the sea, every time he read about it or longed for freedom during his childhood. A sea like this one, balmy and blue. 

Sammy absolutely lit up out on the water, and Nathan and Sam couldn't stop grinning. It was all beers and joking chatter and affectionate head ruffles from them as Sammy passed by, constantly moving from each side of the boat to look in the water and run his one unbound hand through it. Sully, for his part, was enjoying having an ocean-lover on board--and he was quick to start answering Sammy's questions and giving him fun trivia, lounging nearby with a smile and a cigar. Sam, the one driving, couldn't help making pirate jokes every few minutes either.

It was the most fun Sammy thought he had ever had. 

"Hey, look!" He pointed northeast after about an hour out. "That's a shark, right Sully?"

"Yeah." Sully stood up, interested while Nathan followed and Sam leaned over from the wheel to peek. "A mako, looks like. Here," he stepped next to Sammy, whose brown eyes were fixed on the fish, and pointed. "See how his pecs are down?" 

"What?" Sam asked, confused. 

"His pectoral fins. They're down instead of being parallel to his body. Means he's hunting."

"Whew. No swimming for us, then," Nate said cheerfully, giving Sammy a side-hug and wrapping one arm lovingly around his neck as they watched. They both HAD been wanting to swim, since it was a clear sunny day and the turquoise water couldn't look more inviting. Sammy's arm had made quick work of that--but the shark sighting was a nice solace prize. 

"How big is he, anyway?" Sam asked, looking over from the wheel but still kind of pretending not to be too interested. 

Sully grinned, but didn't tease him. "About six feet, I'd say. You estimate the length from snout to dorsal fin, then double it." 

Sammy beamed, mouth open in an awestruck smile as he watched the shark swim up closer. "Cool."

The mako slid right up alongside the boat then curiously, its dorsal fin in easy reach, and Sammy couldn't help reaching out a hand to touch it. Sam couldn't resist, then, partly from interest and partly from worry, and left the wheel to join in. 

"Whoa, careful," he said, reaching out his own hand once he saw that the others were 'petting' the shark successfully. 

"Sharks are very tactile creatures," Sully said, "so they can 'feel' things about us. He can sense our heart rates and everything."

"Cool," Sammy breathed. 

"Sketchy," Sam added caustically with a slightly nervous laugh. Sensing Sam's nerves, Nate casually pulled Sammy back by tugging on his shirt. "Aright, let's let him do his thing. See ya later, buddy," he called jokingly to the sleek gray shark, before patting Sam on the shoulder and stepping around him. "You gonna, you know, drive the BOAT? Or do you want me to?"

"Nope--" Sam dodged him quickly to take over again, as possessive as a little kid "I want to."

Sully laughed. 

"Hey Sammy, was that boat ride in Panama your first time on the ocean?" he asked. Nathan and Sam exchanged guilty glances before looking towards their youngest brother, both remembering that his favorite children's books had been ocean ones. His first time on the beach, and they'd missed it. 

Sammy nodded, sitting sideways to keep watching the shark and delicately biting into a sandwich. "This one's a lot easier," he said after swallowing, smiling a small smile. Satisfied, but still guilty, Sam turned back to the wheel--and Nathan sat down next to his baby brother, asking Sully for some more nautical stories and serving as the entertainment.

Two hours later, they'd arrived; the mystery island was right where it was supposed to be--but it didn't have Libertalia. Instead, the boys hiked a bit on a cheerful detour, where they found a series of clues leading them to a large Avery statue, one that pointed to a foreboding crystal skull-shaped island further away. A storm was coming in, though...and when Shoreline boats started showing up, they brought a storm of their own. 

The next few minutes were chaos for Sammy. Night had fallen, with pouring sheets of rain and thunder and lightning, but the real storm was interspersed with the cacophony of gunfire and shouts. Sam yanked him down into the boat's little roofed cockpit and shoved him into a kneeling position, shouting "STAY WITH NATHAN--" before hustling back, bent down for cover, to fix the stalling engine with Sully nearby firing. 

A rocket blast almost blew Sammy right off the boat--but Nathan caught him at the last second by his collar and tugged him back aboard, shoving him back down in hiding. "SAMMY, STAY DOWN!" Both of his brothers yelled--

"Head straight for the island!" Sam yelled to Nathan next. 

"Sam, the engine!"

"I can fix it. Victor, cover me!"

"Nate, dodge their rockets!"

Nathan did his best to follow Sully's orders and steer the boat around the RPG rounds--but then a larger boat steamrailed right into them, giving Sammy and the others only a moment to see it before it crashed into their hull.

"Ohhhh shi--" Sammy faintly heard Sam swearing in that moment before they were all sent flying skyward--

"SAMMY!" Someone yelled, then Sammy hit the water in a cold burst of nothing. 


	30. Chapter 30

Sammy lurched out of the water with a gasp and lunged his body onto shore, clutching at the sand feebly as he crawled. The smell of smoke filled his nostrils, and it took a surprising amount of effort to lift his head and look around the shoreline. The little boat was there, burning in the shoals. His brothers...

Sammy stayed in half-push-up position, unsure what to do next, hoping desperately that they weren't in there...he wanted to move, he wanted to get up and go to the boat so badly--what if they were trapped--

"Sammy!" Nathan's urgent voice sounded to his right as his brother rushed over to him in the darkness and put his arms around him. "Hey, Sammy, thank GOD--you okay?" he was lifting him up bodily, strong shoulders making light work of his baby brother's body, both soaked to the skin by the saltwater and the rain. Sammy vaguely nodded in response to his question, still looking around for the others--

"They made it, I saw them make it off the boat Sammy, that's all we need to know for now. You sure you're okay?" Nate panted, heaving him to be completely upright now and looking over his body. Even in the gray light, Sammy saw him pale. "Is your arm--"

Sammy cut him off. "It's fine, it's fine--"

The fires from the boat flared then, making them both look--and making them both notice the small Shoreline boats getting closer. The boats were going slow, and using their floodlights; clearly they were looking for them. 

"Come on, let's go," Nate said, pulling Sammy away. "Sam and Sully made it from the boat all right, and they'll be doing the same thing. Come on," he tugged the staggering Sammy faster down the beach, dodging the island's volcanic rocks and heading further inland. It was only when Nate visibly struggled to climb a small ledge that Sammy really worried about him. "Y'okay?" he asked anxiously. Nate let out a 'whew' and a typically-optimistic laugh. "Yeah! Just-" he panted and pulled Sammy up the rest of the way "Just took a bit too much of a beating, that's all. C'mon. Let's find someplace to rest for a while."

Sammy didn't stop staring at him, though, even when they found a little cave and slid inside. Nate laughed at seeing Sammy's big puppy-eyed stare. "I'm FINE, Sammy," he said with a giggle. "I'm fine! C'mon," he waved him closer "we gotta stay warm. Sam and Sully'll be all right. You'll see."

Nate was careful to avoid his little brother's arm, and the gesture seemed to remind him of it. "You good? Is your arm still okay?" he asked, making Sammy look at him. "Yeah, yeah it's fine--"

Nate leaned his head back against the cave wall. "Good. Let's try to get some...sleep..." he already sounded tired, but Sammy was still too soaking-wet and shell-shocked to sleep, so he settled for listening to the rain outside and watching Nathan breathe.

Hours later, the sun was shining and the boys were both slowly blinking, bleary-eyed as the sunlight forced them awake. "All right," Nathan said, stretching gingerly with a groan before gently helping Sammy up. "Let's see what we're working with." He stepped outside, Sammy following him like a shadow, and cheerfully looked around. 

Sammy rapped his arm, pointing to a creepy mountain further inland. "What's that?"

There were flashes of light coming from it. Nate pulled out his battered binoculars and took a look. "It's Morse code," he said happily. "S...i...c...p... Sammy, it's from Sam! Sic parvis magna!" 

Sammy remembered the famous Henry Avery motto that Sam and Nathan were obsessed with, and smiled. So Sam was alive. He felt his chest lighten a bit. 

Nathan immediately started sending the message back, but got no response. "Well, guess something must have come up. But he's alive, and that's all that matters. C'mon," he said, starting to hike. "Up to the creepy mountain we go!"

An hour later, Sammy's arm was starting to really, really hurt. The twinges were back again, and he was starting to get scared. But he kept quiet, steadfastly following Nathan and focusing on his feet. A few times Nathan had to tug him off to the side in the bushes, dodging Shoreline patrols--and the first time he saw Nathan snap a man's neck, Sammy almost passed out. Sensing that it had freaked out his little brother, Nathan started settling for just knocking the Shoreliners unconscious--but he didn't know that the kill wasn't the only thing making Sammy pale.

By the time they reached a set of cliffsides, Sammy nearly collapsed in relief to see that Nathan had found some rope to lift him with. He had no idea how he would've been able to free-climb that thing in this condition. 

The climb wasn't easy, anyway; both boys were exhausted from the shipwreck and the trekking--which, considering Nathan's athletic physique, was saying something--and Sammy was doused in dirt and scrapes of blood and sweat by the time they were near the top. 

Nathan pulled himself up over the ledge first, leaving Sammy hanging there for a second--then jumped a mile. 

Sam Drake lowered his gun, fierce expression immediately softening to good-humored relief. "I nearly shot your head off," he said sardonically, running a hand over his forehead to brush off his own sweat. Nate relaxed, too, sighing and smiling. "Sam! You're okay," he panted. "And how--" he gestured to his older brother "how is it you don't look worse than me?"

Sam laughed. "Well, Nathan, you have a real knack for getting dirty in the process of treasure hunting."

"Well, at least I'm alive. And look--" Nate turned back to the cliffside and started lifting, speaking happily through grunting "who I have here."

Sam's smile broadened when he saw that it was Sammy, and he stepped over to help him stand up. "Heeeeeyyyy, baby brother, you made it!" He gave Sammy an affectionate neck-squeeze, looking him over, and whistled. "You don't look so good."

Nate laughed. "Right? He might be even scruffier than me." Sammy laughed at that tiredly. 

"And your arm?" Sam looked hesitant to ask; maybe he could read something in Sammy's face that Nathan hadn't. 

But Sammy stuck to his story. "It's okay."

'Okay' was easily a big jump down from 'fine' to 'not great', at least in Sammy-speak, and both of the bigger Drake brothers exchanged informative glances. Sam backed off for now, though, and gave Nathan a pat on the back. 

"Well, come on. Victor's this way, scouting up ahead. Guys, you've gotta see this--after all that--" his grin widened again, meeting Nathan's gaze "we found Libertalia."


	31. Chapter 31

"Heyy!" Victor said, ruffling Sammy's head as the trio caught up with him. "Look who's here!" 

Despite his pain, Sammy grinned, pleased by the enthusiastic introduction. Sully looked a little ruffled up, but otherwise no worse for wear--and he too was grinning. He nodded at Sam. "You tell 'em?"

"Hell yeah I told 'em. C'mon," Sam wrapped both his brothers in a side-hug, already walking again "let's go see the legendary pirate utopia we've heard so much about." 

"Just-just hold on a minute, Sam," Nathan said tentatively, obviously anticipating some tension. Sam paused, arms still around them both and brow furrowing. "What, what's wrong?"

"What's WRONG is we've got some reevaluating to do; we just lost all of our supplies, and our BOAT."

"So we steal some from Nadine and Rafe's guys," Sam said plainly; but Sammy felt his brother's tension winding up in his shoulders, and wisely stayed still. Sam had always wanted this treasure hunt the most intensely out of any of them--Sammy hadn't been there for all of it, but his big brother's enthusiasm these past several days had always been apparent--and if he caught on to what Nathan was suggesting, he was NOT going to be happy about the treasure hunt being put on hold. 

But Nathan was insistent--reluctant, but insistent. "And then there's that. We're up against almost a thousand men, with no escape plan. Sam," he spoke carefully now "let's just secure one of Rafe's boats first. Okay?"

Sam scoffed sharply. "And what, let Shoreline just swoop in and take all the treasure right out from under us while we're stealing a canoe? For fuck's sake, Nathan--"

Nathan sighed patiently, but his lip was tightening in a way that Sammy remembered well. It meant he was outwardly being tolerant of Sam's behavior--while internally clubbing him with a stick. 

Sam spotted it, too, and held up a finger in warning. "Don't give me that look, Nathan--"

"C'mon, guys, don't fight," Sammy said feebly, looking up between them both. They both glanced at him grudgingly.

"The kid's right," Sully cut in firmly. "Look, I don't have as much of a stake in 'discovering' this place as you three boys. I'LL go get a boat, and meet up with you at the other end. Deal?"

Sam nodded. "Deal.", but Nathan opened his mouth to protest. Sully held up a hand. "I'll be FINE, Nate; don't worry so much. You and Sam have been talking about this treasure for years now; ENJOY it!" 

Nathan looked between the two older guys' faces, then down at the carefully-neutral expression of Sammy (who didn't care as much about this treasure anyway, aside from the fact that his brothers did, and who actually preferred Nathan's plan but chose not to stir up the waters), and nodded with a sigh. "Fine."

"THERE he is." Sam clapped him on the back, smiling again, and laughed as he watched Nathan's mouth quirk slowly into an adorable little grin. "We got him back," he said affectionately. "Come on, little brothers, let's go find this thing."

"You boys be careful," Sully said as he headed off. "Yeah, you too," Nathan called, still a little worried. "Hey, Sammy, I'll bring you somethin' for that arm, ah?" Sully added with a sympathetic smile. Sammy felt his brothers' attention back on him, but stayed casual--even if he felt his heart swoop in relief. 

"Thanks." 

"See ya on the other side." 

Sammy's relief at the prospect of medicine--and at the end of tensions between his brothers--was unfortunately doomed to end soon...because within ten minutes, they found themselves standing at the base of another hundred-foot cliff. 

And Sammy realized with resignation that he was going to have to climb it.


	32. Chapter 32

"Aright," Sam said cheerfully, hands on hips as he surveyed the cliff wall, "looks like we're going up!"

But Sammy was eyeing the same cliff wall tremulously--and Nathan's eyes were fixed on Sammy. "Wait," he said quickly, brushing Sam's enthusiasm aside, "I'm gonna try to walk around, see if there's an easier way up."

"What for?" Sam asked, genuinely confused. "We've already got some rope."

"Just-just let me check." Nathan headed off, but Sam followed right behind him after issuing a firm 'wait here' to the subdued Sammy. 

"Nathan, tell me you're not stalling out again--"

Nate sighed, dismayed, and turned to his brother. "I'm just checking for SAMMY; it'd be better if there's a way around where he doesn't have to climb."

"Nathan, like I just said, we HAVE ROPE--"

"Sam!" Nate sounded dismayed enough to stop Sam in his tracks. "Can't you see what's happening??"

Sam looked at him, silent now and focused. Nate sighed, seeing the cluelessness in his brother's face. "Sam, you've gotta trust me on this. I know that you get really into treasure hunts like this--" Sam scoffed now, turning away and sensing a lecture--but Nathan forced eye contact again "and it makes you blindsided--or" he fumbled for the words "the thing with the horses where they have blinders on! You're really invested in this, which I get and that's GREAT, but Sam you've gotta trust me when I say that there's something wrong and I can see it. Sam," he spoke quieter now "there's something wrong with Sammy."

Sam immediately looked over at their baby brother, who was still staring at the cliff and seemed to be folding in on himself. 

"Even if we lift him--I--" Nate sighed. "I think he's in a lot of pain. Sam," Nate touched his arm, speaking sadly "Sammy's scared. Your baby brother is SCARED, and he DOESN'T WANNA do it. Okay??" 

Sam suddenly felt incredibly guilty, blinders coming off for a minute. "Oh." 

"So let's try to find a way around. All right?"

"Yeah." Sam nodded. "And Nathan--" he let his guilt show on his face. "Thanks for...y'know" he waved his hands sheepishly "being my eyes when I'm 'blind'."

Nate smiled. "Anytime."

"Shit, I feel like an asshole."

Nate grinned and patted him on the back. "Don't worry, Sam. You're not. Really, you're not. Trust me." He winked and started walking. 

Fifteen minutes later, the two Drake brothers were back--with bad news, and now Sam was aware enough to feel bad. "No way but this one," he said regretfully, squeezing Sammy's neck to check in with him. "But Nathan and I will lift you the whole time, and we'll go slow, aright?"

For once, Sammy couldn't feel his self-control, like he had totally lost the ability, and his unease showed on his face. Sam saw it this time, and squeezed him in a little hug and shake. "Hey. You can DO this, okay? It's gonna be fine." 

Sammy's big brown eyes looked up at him despairingly, and Nate jumped in. "Come on, Sammy, it's okay," he said brightly. "I promise we won't drop you. And you won't even have to USE your arm." 

Sammy sighed and nodded, looking at the cliff again with a bracing breath. The climb did go okay--slow, but okay--but he was practically shaking by the time they made it up. This arm hurt so bad...

Now that Sam had been snapped out of himself by Nathan, he was more and more aware that his smallest brother was turning pale. Since Sully wasn't back with the medicine yet, they needed a distraction--and soon. 

"C'mon, Sammy," he said lightly, leading the way, "if our boy Avery has treated us right, Libertalia should be just around the bendddd....hoOOly shit--"

And there it was: an expansive, abandoned, towering colony of houses and markets and churches and buildings, filling the entire valley. Sammy let out a little 'huh' in surprise, successfully distracted. And when Sam and Nathan started laughing, doing a dance and jigging, he was genuinely happy again.


	33. Chapter 33

"Libertalia!" Sam hooted triumphantly. "LIBER-fucking-TALIA." He patted both of them on the back excitedly, still jigging. 

"I'm speechless," Nathan said, gaping at the expansive colonial city.

There was a pause.

"Holy goddamn shit!" 

Nathan and Sammy laughed at their big brother's swearing. "Those words work."

"Well, well, well." The slow, sardonic American drawl sounded from behind them. "Guess you boys were worth keeping alive for a while after all." 

Rafe Adler stepped out of the jungle, Nadine Ross and several of her men behind him. He was just as well-groomed as if he'd stepped out of his cathedral back in Scotland, even though he'd been traipsing all over the island. Not a hair out of place. 

Nate scoffed while Sam glowered, stepping a little in front of Sammy. "'Keeping' alive? Pretty sure you WERE trying to kill us and failed," Nate said brightly. 

"Hands up," Nadine snapped, aiming her pistol. Nate and Sam complied, and Sammy raised the arm that he could. Rafe raised an eyebrow, the discrepancy making him pay attention to the kid.

"Well." His eyes narrowed as he stepped right up to Sammy. "You little sneak. I hear you stole my Lieutenant's gun." Nadine bristled at the word "my" but stayed silent. Sammy gave his brothers a guilty glance; he hadn't mentioned the gun from Scotland before, since he'd ditched it there after stealing it. But they just looked impressed. 

Rafe continued talking. "Looks like you found your brothers. You're welcome."

"You're the reason we were IN prison, Rafe," Sam snapped. He moved to try to get closer to Sammy, but Nadine and her men held him back at gunpoint. Nathan stiffened a little, but stayed calmer than Sam. 

"Yeah," he said sarcastically, still calm but a little bit of bitterness coming through his voice "Unless there's a TWIN Rafe that killed the guard. A second short little asshole that we're forgetting?"

Rafe glared at Nathan, but Sam spoke again, fists clenched. "No, Nathan, I don't remember a twin Rafe either." Sammy looked between Rafe and his biggest brother apprehensively. Rafe was still standing right in front of him, but his head was turned to look at Sam. 

Sam looked like he could spit fire, and he spoke low and viciously. "You kept us away from our baby brother for seven goddamn years--"

Rafe laughed. "Oh, please, like he wasn't better off without you--"

Sammy's right fist slammed into Rafe's cheek so hard that the man fell to the ground in one quicksilver blow. Rafe let out a grunt of pain, but also surprise...and, judging by Nadine's inaction, she was just as surprised. Sammy was actually surprised by his own actions, too, but Nathan and Sam instantly started laughing and he smiled proudly, looking up at his big brothers to see their approval. 

"Nice one, Sammy," Nathan was saying as Sam said "Atta boy, Sammy! He deserved it!".

Rafe dabbed at the blood on his mouth from where he lay still down on the ground, and shook his head. He let out a little laugh. "Heh. Gotta say," he said, pointing a finger at Sammy as he got up with a grimace "that WAS a good one. Didn't know you could hit that hard."

"Runs in the family," Nate said proudly. Sammy said nothing, trying to keep his face neutral as Rafe eyed him with new appreciation--and an anger that Sammy was sure was going to come out soon enough.

For now, Rafe laughed again sardonically, even as he took out his own gun. "I don't know why," he laughed, "but I do like you." He pointed the gun casually at Sammy as he spoke, but lowered it again. "Lucky kid. But YOU two--" he turned to point his gun at the older Drakes--

Staccato gunfire rang out as Sully started firing from higher ground, scattering the Shoreliners and sending Sammy and his brothers packing. "Run for it, kids!" Sammy heard Sullivan yell as the three of them took off through the newly-found city, darting around old wagons and statues. 

Sam sneezed as they ran. "Really, Sam?" Nathan yelled over the gunfire. "Hay fever NOW?"

"Whattaya want from me?!" Sam yelled back. "Sammy, y'okay?"

"Yeah," Sammy panted as he ran with them, deviating from the course a little off to the side. "This way!" Sam ordered, clearly not liking Sammy being that far away from him, and Sammy rejoined the retreating group. 

"Where to now? Hide?" Nate gestured towards some old stables. Sam shook his head. "My sneezing'll give us away. Just keep running! Don't stop--"

An RPG hit then, and all three of them were thrown to the ground with grunts of pain. Sammy landed hard on his arm--and promptly passed out.


	34. Chapter 34

"SHIT, get to cover!" Sam yelled, recovering from the RPG hit and crawling to his feet, yanking Nathan up with him. "Sammy--Sammy!"

They looked back to see their unconscious brother, and Nate panicked, launching himself towards his brother's body. "Sammy??" 

Sam was in a crouching position next to him. "Is he hit???" he asked frantically under the continuing gunfire. Nate was scrabbling his hands all over Sammy, looking for blood. "No, just out cold!"

"Take him then, let's go!" Another sneeze punctuated it and reminded Sam why Nathan should carry their brother, even though he wanted to (and personally thought he had better biceps). Nathan was currently in much better non-sneeze-fit shape. 

Nate scooped Sammy into his arms, Sammy's head limply bouncing against one of his shoulders as they turned and ran. 

The next few minutes were all running and jungle leaves and Sam occasionally yelling "Nathan?" and Nathan understanding both of his questions, responding with "I'm good! Sammy's still out."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Ah, Jesus, he's not lookin' good," Sam said worriedly as Nathan lowered Sammy down to the base of a tree trunk. 

"He must have landed on his arm," Nate said sadly, checking Sammy over for anything else. 

"Boys?" Sully's voice crackled over the walkie talkie. 

"Yeah, Sully, you okay?" Nate asked, eyes still looking over Sammy nervously. His little brother looked so pale, and so so tired...

"All good here. You boys all right?"

"Sammy's unconscious from his arm, but otherwise we're fine."

Sully must have heard something in Nathan's voice. "His arm's hurt bad, huh."

Nate's jaw pulsed for a second. "Looks that way. Yeah."

"Poor kiddo." There was a pause. "Listen, how 'bout we split up and I take care of the kid while you two work on Avery's treasure, ah? I've got the medicine anyway."

"We're not splitting up," Sam snapped. "I promised Sammy I'd never leave him behind again."

Sully sighed. "Look, nobody has witnessed more than me how much Sammy hates it when you boys leave him, even for a minute or two. He practically had a seizure from stress when you were gone in Scotland."

The boys' faces fell as they looked at their unconscious brother. 

"But" Sully continued "the sooner you boys get this done, the sooner we can all leave and he can get his arm fixed. Right now, he" he sighed "he's dead weight." 

Sam bristled at that term, but Nate cut him off. "Okay, Sully. You're right. Here" Nate walked off for a second and started giving Sully directions to their location, while Sam stayed with his baby brother. "Sammy? Can you hear me?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Sammy? Can you hear me? Come on, kid. Give me something."

Sully's voice filled Sammy's head as he slowly blinked awake, first seeing the trees up above in a blur of green and sunlight. He winced, feeling Sully petting his head. 

"Hiya, kid."

Sammy blinked blearily before looking around without moving his head. "Where're--"

"They're fine. Went after the treasure, we decided letting you rest would be safer for everyone than trying to bring unconscious you along." Sully petted his head again, and Sammy let him. It felt calming somehow, and nice...

"Hey." Sammy opened his eyes again. "How ya feeling, kid."

Sammy shifted a little and groaned a tiny groan. "Okay, I guess."

"Arm hurt?" Sully rattled a bottle of pills. "I got some medicine right here." 

Sammy sat up, brightening at the prospect of pain relief. "That would be great actually," he said sheepishly with a tired laugh. 

"Here you go then, kiddo. Say no more." 

As Sammy swallowed the pills, steadfastly avoiding looking at his arm, he moved his gaze up to the mountains...and moved his thoughts to his brothers.


	35. Chapter 35

Sammy had no idea how long it had been now; everything was just a barely-there haze of greens and golds and browns, peppered with occasional sounds from Sullivan. He was pretty sure he heard at least one "Sammy? oh, shit, kid..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sullivan looked down at the boy again, letting out another nervous sigh. The medicine he'd found was helping with the pain, sure--but the kid did NOT look good. And he was pretty sure he'd gotten the kid high. Or, at least, too out of it to function. Sammy's eyes were closed, and his face more relaxed than Sully had ever seen it, but he was literally turning red, his skin flushing and getting hot to the touch. 

When the cold sweats and shaking started, Sullivan really panicked. "Nate?" he whispered into the walkie talkie, sounding his age for once. "Goddammit, Nate, answer--"

"Sully," Nathan whispered back. "Sully, now's really not a good time--"

Sully knew what that meant. It meant the Drake brothers were just yards away from enemies, and really didn't need his voice outing them right now. Besides, he reasoned, there was nothing Nate could do to help at the moment anyway. All he'd say was probably what Sully was already thinking--cool the boy's fever down, and fast. But Sully knew there must be something he could give the kid to counteract the drug...Jesus Christ, if he'd accidentally given him an overdose...

Maybe that cortisone shot from Scotland and this painkiller were a bad combination, he thought fretfully as he stood up and surveyed the nearby landscape. And there was a drug--he knew he'd read about it in the news at some point, it was supposed to save people from overdoses--but if it was the two drugs reacting badly together, what was the drug for THAT?

Sully saw what he wanted--a stream, just a little down the ways. His walkie talked crackled. "Sully? We're back. What's the matter?"

"I--Sammy's not doin' too good, boys," Sully said, letting his stress into his voice. Judging by the moment of silence on the other end, they'd heard it.

"Wh...what do you mean??" Nathan sounded so young and fragile in that moment that Sully could cry. 

"I...think his medicine's reacting badly with the cortisone shot. Either that, or--" Sully couldn't say it.

"Or WHAT, Victor?" Sam's voice sounded taut as a wire. 

"Or I gave him too much." It came out as a heavy sigh. There was silence again on the other end, and Sully could just imagine the boys looking at each other with vulnerable panic on their faces. 

Sam, as usual, switched to anger. "Victor, I swear to God if you did that--"

"There's a DRUG, Nathan," Sully interrupted, knowing that Sam's threats were wasted time. "The one that counteracts overdoses, calms everything down--"

"Yeah. I remember it," Nate said. "But...but I doubt Shoreline has that in their supplies for us to steal."

"Victor, what are the CHANCES it's an overdose?" Sam asked, sounding anxious now. He'd clearly realized that his threats were useless, too. 

"I hardly gave him any," Sully said, rubbing his eyes and looking at the shivering, flushed kid laying unconscious on the trail's shoulder.

Nate's sigh of relief was audible over the connection. "I'm betting it's a reaction to the drugs mixing, then. Focus on getting his fever down--" 

"That's what I'm doing, I'm going to put him in the stream."

"Rudimentary, but whatever works--" Gunfire sounded over the radio. "SHIT! SHI--"

Nothing but static sounded now, and Sully sighed again. He looked down at Sammy, whose eyes were flickering back and forth rapidly under his eyes, then rolled his shoulders with a groan. 

"Good thing you're skinny, kid," he said gruffly, leaning down and gingerly starting to lift the semi-conscious Sammy upright "'cause you're going swimming."


	36. Chapter 36

It was a slow process in which Sammy became fully awake, but eventually the cold temperature surrounding him did its job and the rushing-water sound became a reality. He could feel his pulse through his entire body, thump-thumping right under his skin the way it always did during a hot bath, and he blinked, sitting up further and shivering. This was definitely not where he'd started...

"Oh, you're awake, thank God." Sully was on a rock beside him, grinning. "You gave me quite a scare, kid." 

Sammy looked at him blearily, blinking slowly. "Still not quite up to par, I see. But your fever seems down, and you're sitting up, so that's something." It sounded more like Sullivan was convincing himself, Sammy thought distantly. 

"What...happened?"

Now Sully looked guilty. "What happened is I'm shit when it comes to mixing drug cocktails and you had some kinda allergic reaction." 

Sammy wanted to say that it wasn't Sully's fault, but he was too tired to get the sentence out. 

A strange whistling sound impinged on Sammy's hearing...he figured it was just the fever talking, but Sully was sitting up now too--

"Get DOWN!"

The water beside Sammy exploded, knocking Sammy sideways for yet another time today. He already felt Sully's hand grabbing his arm and pulling him up as he resurfaced from under the water. 

"Up! Come on!" 

Staccato gunfire hit the water, making it look like violent invisible rain, and Sammy staggered onto dry land, distantly marveling at the contrast between Sully's two recent orders. UP and DOWN...

"Sammy, come on, you gotta stay sharp for me," Sully said, tugging him under his arm and towing him along through the jungle at a rapid pace. He started hollering into the walkie talkie with the other hand. "BOYS? WE'VE BEEN SPOTTED--"

"Head for the mountain!" Sam's voice faintly crackled in over the connection. "There's an underwater cave, Shoreline has motorboats--" 

"C'mon Sammy!" Sully yelled in his ear, shaking Sammy more as they jogged. "It's not safe here. Come on, Sammy, we're going to your brothers--"

That did it; Sammy was blinking slowly, eyes bleary and skin still flushed, but his hazy focus zeroed in on the mountain peak soaring overhead. Brothers...he thought as they jogged. Going to my brothers...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Sammy really gets put through the ringer, but don't worry, happy endings all around!


End file.
